Fable: Forging destiny
by halfdragon62
Summary: am going to revise chapters 1 through 9, there will be significant changes to story. after editing, please let me know whether the new version is better or not.
1. Chapter 1

Fable

Chapter 1

_Unsheathing his sword, the warrior's eyes were trained on the bandit leaders advancing towards him, five men, all between five and six feet tall, their faces lined with scars, their skin adorned with tattoos, and their muscles rippling as they wielded their swords with malicious intent. As they continued to advance, eager sneers on their faces, the hero smiled. Taking up his iron forged long sword in both hands, he yelled a hoarse battle- cry that echoed through the autumn wood before charging head first towards his nearest foe. With a few quick, deadly strokes, the bandit was down, scarlet liquid seeping into the leaf veiled soil. _

_The next bandit came charging at the hero with a furious swing, which the hero easily dodged, only to follow with a well placed kick to the bandit's left knee cap. He fell from the blow, clutching his broken knee with shaking hands, only to have his head swept from his shoulders by the hero's following sword._

_The hero turned swiftly to the next three bandits, who were far more cautious, having witnessed the hero's blade work. He grinned smugly, holding up his sword with his right hand, he wiped a strand of greasy coal black hair out of his pale blue eyes. Looking once again to his foes, he brought up his left hand above his head. His eyes tightly closed in concentration; he focused the energy in his body to his outstretched hand. A crimson glow shone from the hero's palm as he began a silent incantation to complete the spell._

_Before he could do so, however, an adult voice interrupted his thoughts._

"Archie, what are you doing?"

_The hero's eyes cracked open, glaring around the forest for the source of the voice._

"Archie? Wake up lad,"

Shaking his head from his daydream, ten year old Archie gazed around dazedly. He was sitting on the porch in front of his two-story house. Ahead of him, he saw the pale, stone paved road leading down the hill to the centre of Oakvale. Along the right side of the road, three of his neighbors' houses lined up as the slope led down and to the left. Further out, past the centre of town was the beach, and beyond that, the ocean, which seemed to stretch on forever in Archie's eyes, and what lay beyond the sea was often a subject of heated debate among the children of Oakvale. Archie suddenly became aware of the presence standing behind him, and with the speed of a balverine he leapt to his feet and turned to see his father, Brom, staring down at him from the doorway to his house. There was a smug smile on the woodcutter's face as he addressed his son in a pleasant tone.

"Daydreaming again?" he asked. Archie rolled his eyes and nodded, his father giving a short sigh.

"Just like your mother, head always in the clouds," Archie's brows furrowed in annoyance, but kept his tongue still.

"I suppose you've forgotten about your sister's birthday... again" Brom continued, his smile turning to a frown, but not an unpleasant one, as Brom wasn't one to easily express anger, or even annoyance.

Archie's eyes widened in alarm.

Brom chuckled, his smile returning.

"Well, I'm not bailing you out this time, son."

"What!?" pouted Archie, his young, childish voice carrying no sway over his father.

"Tell you what," Brom began, bringing up a strong, gloved hand to scratch at the stubble on his chin.

"You do some good deeds around town, and I'll pay you for each good deed you perform, all right?"

Archie's head slumped forwards.

_Great_, Archie thought.

_More chores._

He didn't have much choice, though. If he didn't get a present for his twelve-year-old sister Theresa, he would certainly get the rough beating that she had promised him as punishment if he didn't get a present for her this year. He knew his sister would follow through as well, he painfully remembered last year's punishment from his sister; a large, black eye that had swelled for two days afterwards. Not that he didn't get along with his sister, though Archie would have preferred it if his sister acted more like other girls, and less like a tomboy. And then there were the nightmares she always had. Just last night she had woken everyone in the family as well as everyone next door. In any case, he wouldn't suffer Theresa's punishment this year.

He looked back up at his father, his ocean blue eyes set with determination.

"All right." he answered. Brom smiled, and patted his son's messy hair before Archie turned and ran down the hill towards town. When Archie was out of sight, Brom's smile faded to a worried frown, and his dark brown gaze travelled to the gate leading to the barrow fields, where his wife had gone before dawn to buy Theresa a gift.

But she was meant to be here by now.

"Where was she?" Brom wondered.

Archie's leather sandals click-clacked as he strolled down the hill into town. As he neared the bottom of the hill, he noticed a small girl trailing behind him, no older that seven, who shyly looked away whenever he glanced behind him. Eventually, he turned, facing the girl, who was a head shorter than he, and declared impatiently

"Yes?"

The girl, who Archie recognized as Emilie, averted her eyes, hiding them under a clump of mottled brown hair. Two clumps at the back of her head had been tied into pig tails, but the rest of her hair had been left to fall forwards over her freckled face.

Archie tapped his foot impatiently, awaiting Emilie's response. He was about to turn to walk away when Emilie finally summoned the courage to speak.

"It's Rosie," she spoke quietly, her voice breaking, as though on the edge of tears.

Archie turned to face Emilie again, noticing the tears welling up in her eyes.

"The bear?" Archie asked.

Emilie nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Rosie was well known among the children of Oakvale to be Emilie's favorite teddy bear, and her only comfort against her bully of a brother, Roger.

"When did you last see her?" Archie continued carefully. He didn't want to have to deal with Emilie's tears.

Unfortunately for Archie, Emilie burst into tears at that moment, her answer barely perceptible through her sniffs and cries.

"I lost her!" Emilie cried, burying her face in her hands.

"I lost her! And I can't remember where!" she continued tearfully. Archie silently cursed his sour luck this day; first he forgets his sister's birthday, now a lost teddy bear, and probably many more chores that would surely take too long to make enough money. Nevertheless, this was a start. Ignoring Emilie's tears, he declared.

"I'll find her." At this, Emilie's face re-emerged from behind her hands, her eyes hopeful.

"You will?" she asked quietly. Archie nodded his head, and Emilie wiped away her remaining tears.

"Her stuffing needs changing today..." Emilie mumbled.

"Please find her." Archie nodded again, and dashed off into town.

In the very centre of Oakvale stood an immense oak tree. It was just a little over two storey's high, matching the height of the nearby inn, situated close to where grass and pavement turned into a path of sand heading down to the beach. The tree's wide canopy provided shade for Oakvale residents on hot days, and it served as a significant piece of Oakvale's history. Legend said that Archon, an ancient king of Albion now long dead, planted the oak tree near the shores of Albion, and that he cast powerful magics over the tree, giving longevity to the tree, and protection from evil spirits for those living near the ocean. Of course, such a tale was probably half farce. But in any case, a community gathered around the oak tree, and formed into a seaside hamlet appropriately named Oakvale.

Archie didn't pay too much attention to the stories he'd been told, though, and as he entered Oakvale's centre, he didn't even bother to glance at the tree, instead, he'd come through to search for Emilie's bear, thinking that she may have lost Rosie among the hustle of villagers and traders going about their business. It was then that one particular trader, a tall, heavily tanned man with a ridiculous moustache that extended far out to the sides of his head (a clever gimmick to attract attention, thought Archie), caught his attention. Curious, he made his way to stand before the man, who stood before the doors of the local inn. The man smiled, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"'Ello, lad," he greeted in a scratchy tone, yet not unpleasant to Archie's ears.

"As you can see, I'm a trader, wanderin' from place ter place, sellin' and buyin' goods." The trader continued a bright gleam in his eye.

"What're you bringing to Oakvale, then?" Archie asked, resting his palms against the back of his neck. At this, the trader grinned.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe something that say... an older sister might want for her birthday..."

The trader dug his hands into the pockets of his green stitched coat, his smile growing wider.

"You got a keen ear, mister, how much for a gift?" Archie asked in annoyance, he only liked people when they weren't too nosy. The trader thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. Finally, he said:

"I've got a lovely box of chocolates here..." the trader turned, searching through several backpacks before turning to Archie again, this time holding a box wrapped with a yellow tie.

"Just three gold pieces." I'll wager me left one that you won't find a better price anywhere in the whole of Albion." The trader declared confidently. Archie snickered.

"Careful now, mister, wouldn't want to lose _that_ now, would you?" Archie replied, a sly grin on his face.

The trader growled quietly, and placed the chocolates in his coat pocket.

"Are you gonna buy 'em or not?" the trader demanded.

"Just hold to them, gotta go find some coin." Archie replied, and he ran off before the trader had time to think.

As Archie was about to leave the town centre to search the east hill for Rosie, he was stopped by a young man, only just into his years of puberty, with a great deal of acne covering his right cheek. The teen hopped from one foot to the other, wringing his wrists, and his teeth gnawed on his lip.

"Archie! Thank goodness lad!" The teen greeted quickly.

"Lirschell, you seem... uncomfortable." Archie replied slowly, watching Lirschell's hop from foot to foot.

"Archie, listen now, I've got to... you know, answer a call to nature..." Lirschell paused, and Archie nodded solemnly in understanding.

"I need ya to look after the barrels over there," Lirschell pointed behind him, where the barn houses stood. Out in front, a few stacks of barrels stood.

"Just stand between them barrels until I get back." With that, Lirschell leapt past Archie before he could answer 'no'. Archie sunk his head, and made his way between the two largest barrels. As he sat, he idly picked at the grass, not noticing Jeffery, the youngest boy in Oakvale, making his way over to the barn.

Hearing light footfalls coming towards him, Archie lifted his head, and scowled when he saw the mischievous sneer on Jeffery's face.

"What do you want?" Archie asked in annoyance. Jeffery was by far the most annoying brat in the village, and his face wasn't a welcome sight among the older members of Oakvale, not even his own mother thought him handsome. Jeffery was a small boy, even for his age, and found enjoyment by annoying his older peers. He didn't seem to hear Archie; he turned left and right, as though checking to see if there was anyone else around. Archie stood up, his lips twisted into a deep frown.

"Jeff!" he yelled. At this, Jeffery turned to face Archie, his grin still wide on his face. He ran eagerly to stand before Archie, though kept at least an arm's length away, should Archie find his words annoying.

"Eh," began Jeffery, his eyes growing wide with excitement.

"I 'eard these barrels got stuff in 'em!"

Archie turned to the barrels briefly, then met Jeffery's gaze with a blank stare.

"Of course they got stuff in them, what would be the point of barrels if you _didn't_ put stuff in them?" Asked Archie impatiently. Jeffery shook his head rigorously.

"I mean like, you know, _interesting_ stuff! I 'eard there's gold in them barrels!" replied Jeffery excitedly, waving his open palms over his head, which to Archie looked similar to a chicken flapping its wings.

Archie raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"So?" Jeffery slapped his forehead, as though trying and failing to explain something to a simpleton.

"I can't get those barrels open..." began Jeffery, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"But I bet _you_ could." Jeffery grinned expectantly at Archie, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Archie merely stared at Jeffery, his lips a set line, his brows furrowing into his eyes. A moment later, a cruel idea formed in Archie's mind, and he smiled brightly at Jeffery.

"You know what," began Archie, walking next to one of the barrels.

"Breaking open barrels to find stuff is probably the smartest idea I've ever heard from you." Jeffery beamed, and chuckled smugly.

"However..." began Archie again. Jeffery's smile dropped.

"The locks on these barrels aren't too good." Archie finished, bending one of the barrel lids loose. Archie motioned to Jeffery, who rushed over without a second thought, his beaming smile returned.

Peering down at Jeffery with a friendly grin, Archie motioned Jeffery closer.

"You want to do the honors?" Archie asked, Jeffery nodded vigorously. Archie carefully stepped behind Jeffery as he balanced on the edge of his toes to push back the lid.

Before Jeffery could look to see what was inside the barrel, he was pushed roughly from behind, landing in the barrel, he looked up in time to see the lid close on the barrel.

Archie hollered as he savored the success of his prank. He thumped his open palms on the barrel with Jeffery inside, while at the same time imitating snarling and growling.

"It's going to get you, Jeffery!" Archie could barely contain his laughter.

"The undead, the balverines, they'll smell your fear then eat you!" Archie shouted cruelly, holding the lid down as Jeffery desperately attempted escape.

"Let me out!" Jeffery shouted from within the barrel, a hint of a whimper in his voice as his little fists banged desperately against the wood barring him from the sunlight.

"Gimme a gold piece!" replied Archie, unable to help the laughter that escaped his lips. Jeffery merely whimpered from within the barrel. Archie banged against the barrels side with his fist.

"I see a balverine! Ooh, he's a big one too! He's come to make you a balverine as well!" Archie announced with mock awe. He imitated a wolf's howl.

"Alright! Alright! Just please let me out!" Jeffery announced through his tears. Archie pried the lid loose from the barrel and tipped it on its side, Jeffery fell out of the barrel in a heap, his face stained with tears and his shoulders shaking. He hugged his sides, convulsing as more tears streamed down his face. Archie hefted the frightened boy to his feet and held him by his shirt.

"Alright, gold, please." demanded Archie, a smug sneer on his face. Jeffery avoided Archie's eyes, and desperately fished in his pockets before holding out a gold coin to Archie, who snatched the coin from Jeffery's hand.

"Now beat it."

Jeffery's lip wobbled before he buried his face in his hands and ran toward the center of town, crying his eyes out. Archie flipped the coin in his hand before pocketing it. He looked up to see Lirschell running towards the barn until he stood a few feet away from Archie. Lirschell wiped his forehead and looked down at Archie, a thankful grin on his face.

"No problems I assume?" Lirschell asked, wiping his shirt before standing straight. Archie paused a moment, then replied.

"Oh, nothing worth mention." Lirschell nodded his head and wiped his nose.

"Well lad, I thank ye, ill be sure to let Brom know what a splendid watchmen you made." Lirschell announced, nodding his head as though to confirm his own words.

"Oh, yes." replied Archie.

"That would be much appreciated."

Archie strolled back into the center of town, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. He turned right towards the east hill, which curved over the hamlet to a bridge leading over the main path into town from the north gate. Archie had never been beyond barrow fields, where the gate led to, for beyond barrow fields lay dark wood. A forest with a wiry canopy and thick mist said to block out the sun, keeping the forest dark throughout the day, and impossible to travel through at night. Not that people travelled through the forest often, except for the desperate and crazy traders thinking they were lucky enough not to get ambushed by the local goblin like Hobbes, cruel bandits, or even the fierce and deadly balverines. This of course meant that children didn't wander into the forest, although, when the adults weren't watching, the children would stand at the border of dark wood, one at a time, until they got scared. Archie always won these competitions of bravery, his current record being seven minutes and forty seconds.

Archie scoffed at the memories of these competitions, the littler children were always the first to get scared, especially on nights when distant howls were heard from within dark wood.

"Stupid little idiot!"

Archie stopped in his tracks as he heard a familiar, nasally voice, he silently ran to the bend leading up the hill, and peered over the four foot high brick wall.

"Just gimme the damn bear!"

Roger.

Archie sighed, Roger was by far the most mischievous and trouble mongering slob there ever was in Oakvale. He was feared by the younger community as a bully and oppressor, and loved to let his fist do the talking when a little one didn't show their respect. Archie peered further, to see Roger's victim for the day.

Tom was one of the two youngest children in Oakvale, for whom he shared with Emilie. He was a sensitive and kindly boy, and shy of others. Except for Emilie, who oft times let Tom play with Rosie, no one, especially not her brother Roger, was allowed to play with Rosie except for Tom.

Archie slowly crept from his hiding space, carefully moving forward so as not to attract attention. Tom was cornered against the other brick wall lining the road; his right arm was lifted over his head, a pitiful defense should Roger grow bored with using words. With his other hand he desperately trying to keep something behind him, which Roger was attempting to grab.

"Just give it!" Roger shouted again, waving an angry fist at Tom.

Tom, though terrified, shook his head.

"No! You're not getting Rosie!" his small voice replied. Archie then identified the object Tom was holding.

A teddy bear. With a blue patch on her back.

Rosie.

Archie stepped forward more quickly now, determined to get the bear before Roger. If Emilie's older brother were to get his hands on that bear, there would be nothing left except for a torn head to return.

Tom was the first to notice Archie's approach, Roger, noticing his victim's distraction, followed Tom's gaze, and turned to face Archie, who now stood four feet away.

"Oh, it's you. Hey, this kid's bein' stupid, won't give me the 'effing bear, just co's I said I'd rip its head off! What's he doin' playin' with baby toys anyway?" Roger stated, occasionally glancing back to Tom, discouraging any hope of escape. Archie merely looked between Tom and Roger passively, trying to formulate a way to get possession of the bear as easily as possible. Tom's bottom lip wobbled.

"Get him away from me! Please! You're stronger than him, Archie?" Tom shouted desperately, gripping Rosie tightly. Roger turned to Tom, his face twisted with rage.

"Just shut up! And give me the stupid bear!" Roger growled, and lunged at Tom, his fists raised. Tom backed up as far as he could into the wall, bracing himself for Roger's onslaught.

It was well known among the Oakvale community that Emilie was the favored child in hers and Roger's family, she was nurtured, cared for, and given attention to by her parents, who paid little heed to what Roger said and did, and so he had become jealous of the attention that his sister received, because of this, he did whatever he could to make his sister feel just as low and unwanted as himself, and often focused this anger on Emilie's teddy bear, today was no exception.

Archie lunged forward to intercept the blow, he couldn't afford to have that bear ripped apart, and he needed that gold. He raised his right hand, pushed Tom out of harm's way, and blocked Roger's attack with his other arm. Roger blinked in surprise, then his brows furrowed in anger.

"Taking his side eh? Yellow bellied bastard, ill teach you!" he shouted and lifted his right fist over his head, preparing to strike Archie in the head. Archie reached out and held back Roger's fist, preventing the attack before it began, and he quickly followed with a swift knee to Roger's stomach, sending Roger sprawling. Roger stared up at Archie from his prone position in disbelief.

"Bring it on." Archie declared, beckoning with his fist. Roger leaped to his feet, swinging his right fist at Archie's chin with an uppercut; Archie ducked out of the way with a confident grin, and continued to leap away from Roger's furious fists. Slowly backing up against the opposite wall of the road, Archie continued to lead Roger forward, dimly aware that Tom was cheering his name.

"C'mon Archie! get'em!"The boy shouted, shaking Rosie over his head. Archie's back hit the wall, and Roger raised his fist to strike again, Archie stood in place, then ducked under the bully's fist. Roger's knuckles were met with hard stone instead of delicate flesh, and Roger gave 

a yelp as the rough surface dug and cut into his hand. Archie circled around to face the stunned Roger's back, quickly brought the palm of his right hand behind Roger's head, and pushed Roger's face into the stone.

Roger cried openly in pain, and struggled against Archie's firm hold. After a moment, Archie stepped back, releasing the bully. Roger stood shakily, clutching his bloody nose with his right hand, as his eyes landed on Archie, he couldn't help but shake with terror.

"Sorry! I'll leave him alone, just please don't hit me again!" Roger cried before running past Archie down the hill. Tom cheered and clapped happily, and Archie silently beamed at the praise. Tom held out Rosie with his right hand.

"You stopped him good you did! Thanks a bunch! Take Rosie, she'll be safe with you." he said. Archie took the bear gently from Tom's outstretched hand.

"I would, but Emilie wants her back." he replied, gently fitting the bear into his right pocket, Tom nodded, and made his way to the bridge. Archie turned back to town, searching for Emilie.

Just quarter of a mile away from Oakvale lay Barrow fields, a trading outpost wedged between the town and Dark wood. Traders had chosen this area to stay due to the proximity it had with Oakvale, which brought in new goods from all over Albion via its port, and therefore meant that the traders would be among the first ones to get their hands on the newest produce. A river separated the north and south of the Barrow fields, the two sides being connected by wood and stone bridge. The south side of the river was where traders had set up their camp, due to it being easier to defend by the guards, who could force raiders or marauding monsters from Dark wood into a bottleneck at the bridge, making large -scale attacks easier to deal with. The camp was based on a hill that rose from the river passing through the fields, and was sheltered by tall oak trees. The north side of the river had a rising hill leading to Dark wood's entrance, as well as a cullis gate, a teleportation device originally created in the times of Archon, so that heroes serving the kingdom could travel from place to place quickly, and with great ease. The 'gate', as it were, faced upwards in the shape of a six foot diameter circle, which was rimmed with a ring of steps. The gate was flanked by four griffin like statues, though all their heads had for some reason been cut off as though by an ax, and so it was with all these devices across Albion. If one were to walk up to the cullis gate, they would find that if they were to look into the device's depths, they'd see 

something akin to the night sky, a black endlessness dotted with pin-pricks of light, as though a painter had dapped dots of pure white on a black canvass with a dry brush.

The device in barrow fields hadn't seen use in many years though, due to lack of need of heroes' services in barrow fields (as well as the lack of heroes).

However, today, the device glowed.

The cullis gate seemed almost to sing, and out of the abyss of the gate came an imposing figure draped in a distastefully tatty cloak, covering his face in deep shadow, and hiding the rest of his figure behind the ripped fabric. He couldn't afford to be recognized in case there were survivors. He turned silently to look upon the trader camp on the other side of the river. Entertainers juggled, danced, and sung ballads while wives, husbands and children went about their business with the traders as they haggled over food, toys, books, and other items. The figure's eyes casually evaluated the ten armed guards, who were meant to be keeping watch, but instead were laughing and drinking beer by the bridge.

The figure chuckled hollowly. This would be too easy.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to the presence of the bandit leaders emerging from Dark wood. The trio of bandit leaders had brought with them their personal elite raiders, large, burly men with well honed blades, and even finer skills with said weapons. The leaders themselves were more than a match for town guards, each was the leader of their own clan of bandits, and were therefore both fearsome and charismatic to look upon, as well as tough enough to hold their own in a fight: these were the traits one needed to lead bandits.

The tallest of the three bandit leaders addressed the cloaked figure.

"We got the woman, managed to lure her into the forest, then we jumped her, not as tough as we thought though," he said roughly. The figure held no reply, and didn't make any sign that he had heard, but the bandit leader knew better, and continued.

"We got our lads waiting back in the forest, they'll be questioning her, but she ain't talking. In any case, we're all ready to go when you say..." a silent moment passed.

"...Boss." the bandit finished. The figure finally turned to the bandit leader and his companions, and the trio thought they saw the glint of fiery eyes under their employer's hood.

"Tell your men to find the girl." the figure replied, his voice rumbling with unnatural power, like a storm cloud's thunder.

"What about the boy?" asked the shortest bandit leader, barely five feet tall. The figure turned to him.

"Oh, find him, if you can, I've made arrangements." the figure replied uncaringly before turning to look at the trader camp again.

"What about the rest of the town?" asked the short one again. Without the figure turning, the bandit leaders could tell he was smiling. They could feel it.

"Show no restraint... if I hear any tales of mercy, there shall be great punishment on whoever rules merciful bandits." the figure finished, before lifting a cloaked arm towards the camp.

"Go." he commanded.

When Archie had returned the Rosie to Emilie, he hadn't expected the fierce barrage of praise and gleeful tears that he received. He had somehow managed to escape her though, by telling her 

today was Theresa's birthday. Emilie had then rushed off without a word, presumably to get a present for Archie's sister.

Archie then returned to his father, who waited in front of their house. Archie stood before his father, and related to him his good deeds for the day. When he was done though, Brom merely gave him a disappointed frown.

"I heard what happened with that Jeffery boy." Brom stated evenly. Archie's smile fell.

_Shit_. He thought.

"Do you realize how much trouble you could've been in?" his father lectured.

"Well I don't see any guards coming to punish me." Archie argued. Brom sighed.

"That's because I asked them not to, and told them I'd have a firm word with you."

Archie guiltily hung his head, Brom continued.

"You've not done anything else I should know about, have you?" Brom asked. Archie truthfully shook his head.

"In that case, don't cause any more trouble, for me? And here is your reward for those good deeds you did today." He finished, handing Archie two gold coins, enough to buy a box of chocolates from a certain trader. Archie looked up at his father as he pocketed the coins, smiled, and then ran back into town to buy his sister's present.

Holding the newly bought box of chocolates in his right hand, Archie whistled as he headed to the small wheat field near Oakvale's gate where his sister usually played. As he walked, he passed a pair of unarmed guards muttering about how the youth of today had no control.

Unlike in all other towns across Albion, the guards in Oakvale were never given weapons, the townspeople were adamant about keeping weapons out of the peaceful village; since the hamlet had a one hundred year history of peace since Oakvale had been involved in any conflict. Criminals were usually thrown out into the wilderness for a few days rather than given harsh punishment or thrown in jail. However, as of late being in the wilderness was being considered harsh punishment due to the recent increase in balverine populations.

Archie continued along the path, eventually standing in front of the opened gates of Oakvale, he turned left into the small field, where Theresa was throwing small stones at a bull's eye painted on the bark of a small tree. Hearing footsteps, she turned to see her brother, and her face lit up into a sly grin.

"Hello, little brother. I hope you haven't forgotten to get me a present again, like you did last year," she with a sweet smile, but her white knuckles betrayed the violent punishment Archie would receive if he didn't. Before Archie could give her the chocolates, she continued.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up again last night, it was another one of those dreams." She said, her fist relaxed, and her smile dropped. Archie snickered, trying to cheer up his sister.

"Nah, you know me, I was out again like a candle." He said, waving his wand as though it were nothing. Theresa smiled weakly.

"Liar," she hissed good-humoredly, calling her brother's bluff. His face fell, and Theresa burst into laughter. Though the two siblings often competed with one another, they were more often thick as thieves, at the best of times the two being nigh inseparable. Theresa's laughter died a few moments later, her smile turning to a frown.

"Anyway, in the dream, I was standing in this field, and then something happened. But I can't remember what." she said, avoiding eye contact with her brother. Archie's smile returned, and crossed his arms, as though he were a teacher preparing to lecture a student.

"You screamed during the middle of the night because you had a dream where you were standing in a field?" he asked with a hint of good natured sarcasm. Theresa lifted her head and smiled, before her brows furrowed to form a serious frown.

"I hope you got me a present." she stated, resting her hands on her hips. Archie nearly jumped with fright at the sight of his sister's successful attempt at intimidation. He fumbled with the box of chocolates in his hands, before holding out to his sister. Theresa's face suddenly brightened. She took the box from her brother's hands before facing him again.

"I knew you were going to bring me chocolates! It's just like my dream!" She said as she unwrapped the box before taking a chocolate and chewing on it roughly. Archie paused in thought at her words, his brows temporarily furrowing.

_'She had had a dream in which he had given her that same box of chocolates?'_ he thought. Theresa finished chewing and swallowed the chocolate before looking at her brother once again.

"Come on, mother will be back for my party any minute now, and all the others will be there too!" she declared excitedly. Archie shrugged and smiled at his sister. It was probably just a coincidence. He turned, expecting his sister to follow, but when he exited the gate leading out of the field, he realized Theresa was standing stock still. The box of chocolates, the contents scattered at his sister's feet, had fallen from her hand. His eyes met hers with a question. And then he noticed.

She was shaking.

She took a small step forward, almost cautiously, as though afraid something terrible would happen if she stepped too far forward. Her eyes widened, brimming with fear, as though with the 

realization of some horror. Her next words were almost inaudible, and the words sent an odd chill down Archie's spine.

"There's... something wrong..." she whispered haltingly. Then, a voice, of an older man in his late thirties, brimming with terror and hysteria.

"Bandits!" Theresa and Archie turned to the gate leading out of Oakvale. The man running towards them was on the verge of tripping himself over from sheer terror, his face was lined with sweat, and his eyes were clamped shut with desperation, as though the man were silently pleading for an end, which his flailing arms seemed to be searching for as he ran.

Then, as the man came to within five feet of Archie, it did.

_Whump!_

The man fell at Archie's feet, the butt of a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back. Archie's eyes popped wide with terror, and his mouth dropped in disbelief. His eyes drifted upward, towards the entrance, where stood a man dressed in ragged attire; a ripped jacket, exposing the man's numerous tattoos, torn earth trousers, boots caked with mud, and a blood red cap, hiding the man's hair.

A bandit.

Archie could barely hear his sister's words, he was only aware of the man lay dead at his feet, his blood soaking into the cobbled road.

"Its really happening... they're here! You- you've got to hide!" she cried before pushing past him to run into town, with the intention to warn their father. Archie nearly cried after her, but his words stuck in his throat as he looked back at the dead body and the approaching bandit (who luckily still hadn't noticed him). Archie flung himself over the fence and dashed behind the tree 

as he tried to calm his racing heart as a wave of true terror suddenly washed over him. Archie felt his face whiten, and he gritted his teeth as he felt bile threatening to surface in his throat. He choked it down, and forced himself to peer from behind the tree.

The bandit had made his over to the body of his now dead target, and with contempt kick declared; "got one!"

Archie glimpsed a guard hurrying towards the bandit, ready to face him with only his bare fists as weapons. Archie was too weak with terror to applaud the man's bravery, and, a moment later, the guard fell as a second bandit released a crossbow bolt, hitting the guard square in the chest, the guard struggled to stand, before finally collapsing in a heap. More bandits came flooding through the gate, and then through to town, swords slashing, crossbows thumping.

And all Archie could do was stare on dazedly in terror, as he first heard screams, as women and children realized their doom, and then shouts, as the guards attempted to rally and fight back, but without weapons, their attempt to defend themselves let alone the town was futile. And then Archie's vision was filled with the once blue sky, now veiled in an ugly gown of smoke, and the smell and crackle of flames soon reached him. Minutes passed, then hours, the sky darkened, and still Archie remained still with terror.

It wasn't until he heard the shuffle of feet behind him that he stirred. He turned swiftly, and would have shouted in alarm if a firm, but not careless hand covered his mouth to stifle him. He looked up to see the figure raise a finger to their lips.

Lirschell.

Lirschell slowly took his hand away once he was sure Archie knew to stay silent. Lirschell looked behind him, and motioned toward the bushes as though welcoming a third party.

Indeed, there was a third party; one made up of Roger, Tom and Jeffery, as well as a group of another four children, not including Emilie or Theresa, Archie noticed. They cautiously abandoned the cover of the bushes and ran to Lirschell and Archie's side, some were silent, and 

others sniffed and cried as quietly as they could over their lost homes and families. Roger stared at Archie with a mild anger, and Jeffery avoided Archie's gaze as much as he could, while Tom threw his arms around Archie and wept into his chest.

"I don't know where she is! We weren't able to find her!" he cried into Archie's shirt. Archie's brows furrowed toward Lirschell, who looked away, his face unreadable, obviously trying to remain strong for the younger children.

"Emilie." he said simply. Archie nodded, and looked back down at Tom, not knowing what to do. Should he console him? Hug him back? Tell him everything was all right? He was starting to get annoying, and Archie began to consider simply pushing him away, he began to, but did so slowly, and gently, trying not to make the boy's cries worse. Archie turned to the others.

"Where's my father? And Where's Theresa?" he asked roughly. The other children remained silent, until Lirshcell spoke.

"She told me to get all the kids away, she said she was gonna go help Brom... I just did what she told me-"

"Lirschell got us away-!"

"Socked a bandit in the face-!"

"Got 'im good-!"

"I want mama!"

The children erupted into a sea of voices, all pitching events that had happened since the raid had begun. Lirschell stepped forward, hissing 'hushes' and urging them to silence. Silence fell on them, save for the distant crackle of fire and the occasional crash as the bandits searched the houses for items of worth.

Lirschell turned to Archie again.

"I don't know where your sister is" he said with as much sympathy as possible. Archie's gaze turned toward town, where flames reached into the sky as though attempting to take the stars from the night sky. Archie's eyes were filled with determination as he made his decision.

"I'm going to look for them" he declared.

"Bollocks-!"

"Idiot-!"

"It's too late-!"

"They'll tear ya to pieces and feed ya-"

He was met with a torrent of words from all around him. Finally he rose above the noise.

"Shut up! Or I'll do you in!" he hissed, raising his fist threateningly. Not even Lirschell dared go against Archie. The field was silent again as Archie spoke.

"I'm going to look for my father and sister, you lot should probably hide here since there's nowhere to go, so I should be back soon." Archie turned and walked out of the field, turning to walk into town. Noticing that the main way into the town was blocked off by burning carts, Archie climbed the hill leading to the bridge.

He kept his gaze upwards, avoiding eye contact with the dead littered at his feet as he climbed the hill. He shuddered as he accidentally stepped on the corpses, quickly taking his foot and placing it forward before he could look down into their terrified, dead, blood soaked faces. Eventually, after carefully meandering his way through the path of death, he came to the entrance of the bridge which would lead to his father's house.

He stared through the passageway.

The roof was aflame.

He gulped down a lump in his throat, as his gaze passed from the flames licking at the roof of the bridge to the entrance on the other side. Taking a few, quick breaths, Archie closed his eyes, held his hands over his head and rushed through the bridge at top speed, tripping as he cleared the entrance to the other side. He lifted himself up, and quickly dusted his clothes, before noticing a particular body sprawled out in front of his home, which was now gushing flames and smoke.

Brom lay in a pool of his own blood as a result of his attempts to protect his home.

Archie stood stunned at the head of the hill for many painful moments before he managed to get his feet moving toward his dead father. As he approached, he silently begged whatever power, whether divine or mortal, for a happy ending, that his father was merely knocked out from a hard head injury. But as he drew near, Archie could not see any sign of life, for Brom, his father, did not stir, did not breathe, did not make any move as if to awaken from unconsciousness, but merely lay sprawled on his back, his clothing torn from bandit blades, and his wounds having bled as much blood as there had been in his body.

Finally, Archie stood adjacent to his father's corpse. His eyes began to water, and he fell to his knees, crying into his father's chest, and gripping the fabric of his clothing with all his might, as though hoping that that alone could bring him back.

But Brom remained still.

A harsh laugh reached Archie's ears.

He looked up, his wet eyes now filling with horror instead of tears. A tall, slender bandit had noticed the boy crying over his father's body, and now held a sword raised above his head, in preparation to charge. Archie quickly glanced around him, searching for some form of defense. He spotted the woodcutters axe at his father's side; presumably his father had used it to fight his assailants, but to little effect. Archie reached for the handle of the axe, and attempted to lift the makeshift weapon, but found his arms lacking in strength to carry the weight of it.

He looked up despairingly; the bandit had closed the distance between them. The bandit raised his cutlass above his head, preparing to slash at the helpless boy before him. Archie closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, and prayed it would be a quick end.

End of chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Fable

Chapter 2

It was far more painful than he could have anticipated.

The bandit brought his arm downwards with a cruel laugh; the blade cut the left side of Archie's chin down the left side of his neck, which was quickly followed with blood, and pain, intense, merciless pain.

Archie would have cried out, had it not been for the blood that quickly flooded his throat, tasting of copper, and so instead of a cry of pain, there was a harsh gurgling, accompanied with tears as he fell backwards, clutching at his throat, trying to stop the flow of blood which now stained his shirt. He was dimly aware that his assailant had raised his sword over his head as though celebrating a victory over a mighty foe; if only he could strike down that bandit's smug grin, if only he could just lift the axe and chop the bastard's legs off…

Archie's daze began to dim, the bandit still stood above him, shouting his victory. Archie had just enough strength to turn his head to face his dead father; at least he died attempting to avenge his father… but… was this how it was to end? What happened to his mother and sister? Archie shrugged to himself through the pain, all he could hope was that they were alive.

He silently waited for the darkness to claim him, but as his vision continued to fade, he was dimly aware of a harsh crackling like lightning, the bandit standing over him seemed to light up for a moment, and then fell backwards limply, the sword clanging dully against the cobblestones as it fell.

As the darkness finally consumed Archie's vision, he felt himself teeter on the edge of life and death, but a voice, muffled through Archie's daze held him back, it was then that Archie felt a large hand cover his bloody throat, and from it came pulsating warmth. Archie's daze began to clear as he regained full consciousness. His throat still burned as though aflame, but the bleeding had ceased, and he no longer teetered at the edge of living. His eyes fluttered, then widened, as he looked up into the face of a man in his late forties, but… was his face glowing?

Archie shook his head, blinked, and looked up again into the man's unsmiling face. His skin was a dull grey, and adorned with tattoos that glowed with silver brilliance. His graying hair was evenly combed back and fell halfway down the back of his neck. And the man's brilliant sky blue eyes were a mix of impatience and comfort. The man none too gently pulled Archie to his feet, and as soon as he was standing, Archie leapt away from the figure to stand over his father's corpse. The man frowned impatiently at the boy's behavior.

"It's not safe here." He declared with authority. Archie finally had a chance to look at his savior properly. The man (Archie believed him to be a mage), towered over him, and Archie guessed he was at least seven feet tall. He was clothed in long, purple robes trimmed with gold vine patterns that stretched past the man's knees. Underneath this, he wore a simple green vest, pale brown (and well-kept) trousers, and armored boots adorned with silver. But the thing that caught Archie's attention was the seal hanging from a steel ringed chain at his belt; the seal looked to be made of silver, but was actually forged of platinum, on it was a symbol similar to a mirrored 'S', with the tails winding back to join with each other to form a somewhat disfigured '8'.

It was perhaps the most well known symbol in Albion.

The symbol of the hero's guild.

Archie looked back up into the mage's eyes with wonder.

This man was a hero.

Archie opened his mouth to ask the man a question, but the mage held up a hand to stop him.

"I suggest you don't do that, talking would only reopen the wound, and I'd sooner not have you choke on your own blood." He spoke evenly, almost calmly, as though totally oblivious to the flames greedily feasting on the wood and plants around them. Archie paused, trying to make sense of the man's words. He realized with a jolt that the wound on his neck wasn't bleeding, and slowly brought a hand up to his neck, where once there was a gaping wound, there was now a scabbed scar; running from the left side of his chin down to his left collar bone. Archie's eyes widened in horror, but the man's words distracted him before he could succumb to the terror of what had just happened.

"I imagine the wound has caused damage to your voice box, I don't think you'd be able to speak properly anyway; best keep silent for now." The man's words held no comfort for Archie, as the words fully sunk in.

He couldn't speak even if it were safe to.

"In any case, we must leave, it isn't safe." The mage continued, glancing briefly at the dead bandit at his feet. Archie merely stared blankly at the man, not fully realizing the shock of what was truly happening. The mage's brows furrowed.

"You don't want to end up like the rest, do you?" he said bluntly. The mage's words stabbed through Archie like a red hot knife. He glanced behind him, where his father lay dead. He faced the mage again, answering with his eyes.

"Then… take my hand." The mage reached to his belt and held the guild seal with his right hand, and extended his left outwards toward the boy before him. Archie slowly reached forward with his right hand, hesitated, and glanced longingly at his father's body. Archie clamped his eyes 

shut, and thrust his hand into the mage's. A moment later, the two were surrounded by a pale white brilliance. Archie felt the ground beneath him fall away, and instead of the burning village surrounding him, he was now seemingly standing on nothing, and surrounded by endless, shimmering silver.

A moment later, the silver light surrounding the two figures evaporated, and the two landed firmly in a place that Archie wasn't familiar with. Archie slowly took his hand from the mage's, and he was suddenly aware of the nausea gripping his stomach. He wobbled away from his savior a step, clutched his stomach as he felt bile rise, and vomited into the grass at his feet. He blinked, opened his eyes, and found that the bile was mixed with blood.

"Not to worry, the wound hasn't reopened… but I thought you'd have a stronger stomach than that." The mage said disdainfully. He stepped forward, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. Archie was suddenly filled with a violent rage, as images of flames, swords and bandits, as well as his father's body, entered his mind. He smacked away the mage's hand, and his fists swung wildly at invisible foes. The mage scoffed impatiently.

"Save your energy, boy! It's not me you want to fight!" the mage declared commandingly. Archie's rage subsided, and stared at the cobble stones beneath his feet. The mage continued

"You might not realize it; but I just saved your life, those bandits are ruthless, and not even I would have been able to hold them back if they had found us."

Archie looked up into his savior's face, an apology on his tongue, but he held back his words, remembering the mage's warning. Archie looked away from the mage, and gathered in his surroundings. He was on a hill, with standing next to a tall stone statue depicting a cloaked man wearing a fearsome helm, at his feet were two reptilian creatures that Archie guessed were dragons. Probably a hero the boy thought, though he'd make sure to ask. Three cobblestone roads led down the north, west, and south sides of the hill. The north path lead down a windy track, and in the distance, Archie could make out the walls of a city. To the south, the road remained even, splitting in two, one part leading right as you walked around a corner where Archie couldn't see, and the other continued south, towards a forest. The west path lead down towards another wall guarding a great wooden gate, beyond this, Archie could make out a tall tower standing tall amid the night mist. Upon the door was the symbol matching the one on the mage's seal.

That was the gate leading into the guild of heroes.

The mage stepped toward the west path, motioning for Archie to follow. Archie did so, and as the pair walked, the mage continued to speak.

"My name is Maze, I am the head of the guild, I am in charge of the defense of the guild, should anyone be foolish enough to do such a thing, and I can assure you, it is by far the safest place in 

Albion. I assume you know of the heroes' guild, yes? Good, good, anyway, here is where we train the finest warriors and mages in Albion to become heroes… and… if it is revenge you seek…"

The two passed by a multi-staired pedestal and a stall, and stood before the gate. Archie looked up at Maze, whose gaze was fixed on the gate before them.

_Revenge…_Archie thought quietly.

"…Then you will need the training that only _we_ can offer you." Maze finished, lifted a hand, and pushed the gate open. The mage motioned for the boy to follow, and they both stepped into the guild entrance.

_Revenge…_The hall was alight with burning torches, leading towards a short set of stairs that led upward. Maze continued forward, with Archie in tow, whose mind was now numb from the night's blurring events, and the new thoughts beginning to emerge in his mind. They climbed the stairs, Archie looked up, and nearly gasped, the hall had opened up into what appeared to be a map room, a pair of stairs to either side of the wide room led upwards, a pair of windows on the roof allowed the moonlight to pour in, landing on a circular table depicting the land of Albion; it was the eastern side of a large landmass surrounded by a few small islands, the map was dotted with green to represent forests, carefully molded materials formed the mountains to the east, supposedly splitting the whole landmass in two, for no one had ever gone beyond the western mountains, and there were only a few who cared.

Beyond the map table were four archways, two of them ran parallel, and continued deeper into the guild, one to the far left led into a room of bookshelves, and the archway to the far right led to an abandoned counter, where Archie guessed a shop keeper sold wares during the day.

But these were not primary on the boy's mind, for to the right of the map table stood a man in his early eighties; his scalp was bare, and his whitish brows looked as though they could hide a mouse, while the man's large moustache hid only his upper lip. The man was dressed in a long jacket, similar in color and trim to Maze, however, underneath he wore elegant (though worn out) plate armor which still sparkled dazzlingly despite overuse, he wore at his belt his own guild seal, proof of his training in the guild. His green eyes were welcoming and kind as Maze and Archie approached, yet Archie could barely sense an unyielding authority in those eyes, and power, a great deal of it.

Maze turned to the man, and subtly bowed his head before speaking.

"I found this boy in Oakvale; the whole place will be up in smoke before long." Maze declared without looking at Archie. The old man's eyes now filled with quiet sadness as he addressed the mage.

"So they attacked…" the man said, his eyes drifting downward, and then shooting up to look at Maze.

"Do you know who led the attack?" he asked somberly. Maze closed his eyes and stiffened, a moment passed, then he replied.

"At this time, Guild master, I do not know." The mage replied evenly. The guild master sighed, and then turned to Archie, who had become even more silent at the mention of Oakvale.

"So, Maze thinks you have potential then?" the Guild master asked. Archie glanced back at Maze.

"He sustained an injury to his throat; he can't speak, not now. Though I wish that the boy consider joining the guild while he recovers." Maze said for Archie. The Guild master nodded in understanding.

"We'll put him upstairs with Whisper, and I will have a healer attend to him." The Guild master decided. Maze nodded his agreement.

"Very well, I leave him in your charge. Good night." Maze said before walking past the two, and heading deeper into the guild. The Guild master turned to Archie, smiling brightly.

"All right then, I suppose Maze knows what he's doing, so, come with me." The Guild master turned and headed up the right staircase. Archie followed dazedly behind.

They passed a few men in white robes who peered curiously at the boy trailing the guild master from under their creamy white hoods, but Archie took little notice of what was happening around him. He became aware that they had entered a bedroom like space. One bed was set up near the far window; another was set to the left of the entrance next to a bookcase. Archie was led to the bed to the left of the room's entrance. He clambered onto the bed and sat with his legs crossed on the sheets, facing the Guild master as he spoke:

"You will be sharing this room with Whisper; one of our brightest young pupils. I will be sure that a nurse attends to your injuries in the morning, but for now, you have been through enough, right now, you should rest. I'll speak to you more in the morning, good night." The Guild master turned and left the dormitory, leaving Archie with nothing but his thoughts as his companions.

For a while he merely sat as he hugged his knees to his chest, his mind numb.

It was then that the night's previous incidents hit him full force.

The boy's frame trembled, then shook as he gripped his sides desperately, as images of bodies strewn about him tormented him in his silence, and he couldn't speak, at least not without hurting his throat, and then his father…

A single tear ran down Archie's cheek.

The full horror of it pierced Archie's heart like a dagger. He buried his face in his arms, and tried to cry as silently as possible.

Eventually, Archie, the boy that had lost everything, managed to cry himself to sleep.

End of chapter 2.


	3. Chapter 3

Fable

Chapter 3

_Archie awoke to the sound of creaking wood. His eyes blinked open, and his vision was blurred. From his prone position he rubbed his eyes, sat up, and took in his surroundings._

_The room he was in was rather dark and he could only see thanks to the grace of moon's light that filtered through a window above and to Archie's left. The room was entirely composed of wood, which creaked every now and then as though it were a man in the throes of a troubling dream. Archie sat on the floor, instead of the soft sheets of a bed, and he was dimly aware that the room seemed to tilt and sway. Archie groaned, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand._

_He scanned his surroundings again, noticing a door to his right; he stood, careful to keep his balance against the tilt and sway. He crept to the door, and carefully turned the handle, barely aware of what was happening, or who he was, or where he was. The door swung outward into a hall leading left and right. The hall heading right ended with a wooden wall. To the left, were stairs bathed with a blue moon glow, leading somewhere open spaced, Archie guessed._

_He made his way to the stairs, curious, yet numb as to what was happening. His footsteps echoed as he climbed upward, toward the source of the blue light, closer and closer to the moon. Finally he emerged to find himself on the deck of a ship; a large war galley he supposed. Wooden masts clothed in simple white garments seemed to reach upwards, towards the heavens, attempting to touch the distant stars. Archie's eyes lowered, to view the horizon._

_Archie gasped, the ocean was far bigger than he had thought. Turning around, he found that the great expanse of water surrounded the ship completely, there was no sight of any land on the horizon, the sight was breathtaking, and far more mind enveloping than simply seeing the sea from the shore…_

_But… when had he seen the ocean from the shore? A sudden rush of the previous night's events consumed Archie. His face contorted to sheer despair as his eyes brimmed with tears as he once again saw his house behind consumed by fire's insatiable hunger._

_He sat, hugging his knees to his face as he continued to cry. _

_Until he became aware of the distant rumble of thunder. He looked up. Indeed, there were storm clouds on the horizon. Approaching quickly, and with them came great swells of water. _

_Archie's eyes were now devoid of any sadness or pain; instead, they were now replaced with utter fear. Archie's face snapped from side to side, searching for anyone that could operate the ship, set it on a course away from the storm._

_But there was no one except Archie._

_The ship began to rock harder now, as the swells began to climb higher. Archie stumbled as he rushed to lean against the nearest mast. He pressed himself into the wood, holding on with all his might._

_The crack of lightning sounded directly above him._

_The storm was now directly over the ship, directly over Archie, and the waves only grew bigger, more enraged. Archie looked about him in horror, how could he survive this?_

_A shadow covered the ship. And Archie looked up to see the greatest swell of all; a towering wave, which dwarfed the ship by at least fifty feet, rose into the air, and began tilting downward onto the ship._

_Archie screamed._

Archie woke screaming. He felt arms wrap around him, trying to hold him down. He struggled against it, but found he was too tired to fight. Tears flowed freely over his cheeks as he heard a gentle voice whisper behind his ear.

"You must not yell, nor speak loudly, or your wound will reopen and you will bleed, you must not yell."

Archie's breathing slowed and calmed. He opened his eyes.

It was morning. Sun light streamed through the window, landing on a girl with dark skin and white robes decorated with blue markings leaning against the bookcase opposite his bed, with a very impatient look in her dark brown eyes, with a hint of multi-braided brown hair hidden under a white cloth.

"Oh, please, he's just doing it for attention." The girl, whom Archie guessed was about twelve, said with a foreign accent and a disapproving shake of her head, her arms folded.

"Hush, Whisper! The boy has had his home burned down! Show a little sympathy, would you?" came a woman's voice from behind Archie.

Archie turned to see that it was a woman, with long, golden hair tied into a pony tail, and a matching outfit to Whisper, who had her arms wrapped around him.

Archie felt his cheeks heat up as he stared at the woman's youthful features and deep grey eyes; the only woman he had ever been hugged by was his own mother. Archie looked up to see Whisper stand properly.

"You're just too soft, you know that Nelsa?" Whisper asked.

"That is what I am here for; to be soft and caring, and to look after the boy's wound." Nelsa said in her defense. Whisper shrugged.

"Well, since the kid is up, I guess I should show him around." She declared. The other woman nodded approvingly from Archie's side.

"That would be best." She said quietly before unwrapping her arms from around Archie to stand by the archway. Whisper stepped forward, looking at the boy before her with scrutinous eyes, and Archie felt as though this girl were trying to size him up. He could only hope he didn't seem as weak as he felt. After a moment, Whisper nodded to herself as though confirming something and addressed Archie.

"So, you can't talk, right?" she asked.

"He should be able to now thanks to my healing, but only quietly, and not often." Said the blonde haired woman from the archway. Whisper nodded to her, and then turned to Archie, as though expecting something. A long while passed until Whisper finally spoke.

"Your name?"

Archie jerked as though by a shock, and tried to voice his name without hurting himself.

"Archie." He managed to utter. The word seemed to tug and scratch at the back of Archie's throat, and he had to struggle not to grasp his neck.

"Archie," Archie turned to face Nelsa.

"As you've heard, the guild master has given me specific orders to tend to your wound, should you over extend yourself and cause yourself harm, if my abilities are needed, you should return to the sleeping quarters, I will be here all day." With that, Nelsa nodded to Whisper, then exited through the archway, but Archie knew she wouldn't be going far.

"So, Archie, the Guild master has told me to show you around, don't know what he sees in you, you're far too scrawny." Said Whisper, placing her hands on her hips, and studying Archie's small frame with disapproving eyes. Archie stared blankly at the girl in answer.

"You know you were crying in your sleep?" Whisper continued. Archie stiffened, had she really heard him crying? He hoped not, he couldn't explain it; but he just didn't want to look weak in front of this girl, who seemed to exude confidence. And contempt.

_Too late for that_. Archie thought, as he remembered how he had awoken, screaming like a shrieker. He must've seemed like some sissy girl to Whisper, he thought.

"Sounded pretty bad, too. Anyway, the Guild master also gave you a message, he said something like… 'Have a look around the guild; take your time to make your decision, and talk to Maze when you've made up your mind'…" Whisper finished. Archie bowed his head, the message sinking in.

So he wasn't 'officially' part of the guild yet. Archie didn't really care.

"Right, follow me." Whisper ordered, turning to the archway and gesturing for Archie to follow before exiting through the archway. Archie sighed, scratched at his spiky hair, and followed.

Whisper led Archie through the guild, which was revealed to be made up of a large, two storey building taking up most of the guild grounds. On the top floor was the sleeping quarters, made up of two large rooms in the north and middle of the building, and the smaller room (where Whisper and Archie would sleep) taking the south part of the building. Whisper mentioned her distaste for these, saying that they 'smelled funny'. Archie didn't notice the scent, if there were one.

Downstairs, Whisper showed him the map table at the guild entrance, which heroes used to receive quests from people requiring services all across Albion. Details were written on official 'quest cards' sent by employers to the guild, detailing important notes about the problem, as well as payment for the completion of the service. Of course, the guild took a fraction of this payment in order to continue funding for food, bedding, and training.

Whisper quickly showed Archie the library through a passageway to the left of the map room, as well as the official guild shop through a passageway opposite the one leading to the library. The shopkeeper, Daren, gave the two a polite greeting, before they exited.

They continued between the passageways down a set of stairs leading to the mess room, or, as Whisper called it, 'The drunkard's den', due to the antics of apprentices who indulged in at least one too may beers each Friday night. The tavern master in charge of the mess room regarded Whisper and Archie with suspicion as they passed through, and his thick moustache and bulging stomach and arms reminded Archie of a bear.

To the far left and right of the mess room were two short flights of steps leading outside. Archie followed Whisper up the stairs to the left. As he finished stepping out of the guild ground's main building, Archie blinked as he stepped into the blinding sunlight. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around, taking in his surroundings; to his left was a staircase leading to the second storey of the guild castle. To his right, a cobblestone road lead away to a courtyard 

huddled against the castle. Further along the road was a tower, with the symbol of the guild emblazoned at its head.

"Up there is Maze's quarters." Whisper declared. Archie turned between her and the tower. He nodded silently in agreement. Truly the head of the guild would have the best quarters.

Archie turned away from the tower, to see the river running through the guild grounds. Archie's gaze lifted to look across the bridge and the river.

To his left across the river, Archie saw a cottage like building with open doorways. Next to it was a trio of dummies painted with red bull's eyes, sliding from side to side at various lengths. Guild apprentices fired at these dummies with delicately crafted bows. Archie watched in awe from across the river as a tall, slender woman in her early twenties, fired three arrows within the space of five seconds. Each arrow met the three dummies with immense force. Whisper nudged him out of his trance.

"Come on." She uttered before running across the bridge. Archie followed after her.

She quickly showed him the building on the left, which was revealed to be the servant's quarters. Not very interesting in Archie's mind. Whisper then showed Archie the shooting range, where the woman had shot the three dummies with such skill. However, the woman was now gone.

They began heading toward the southern areas of the guild, passing the entrance to the guild woods, where Whisper explained that wild game could be hunted, as well as large beetles the size of a man's hand. Archie shivered.

Just past the guild wood entrance was the sparring ring. A circle of sand ringed with a meter high red bricked wall. Archie gazed as he walked as two apprentices armed with mock swords made of wood lunged at each other, dodging, stabbing, and parrying with the practice weapons. From the sidelines, a lithe looking man clothed in dark robes, decorated with red stripes on his hood and forearms, watched silently under his hood. Archie could see the hint of a beard, and guessed that the man was in his late forties.

"That's Shadow." Said Whisper, following Archie's gaze.

"He's in charge of melee practice, when he is around. Best swordsman in the guild, besides my brother of course." Whisper continued. Archie stopped and looked at Whisper with a questioning frown.

"Your brother?" he asked hoarsely, as Whisper stopped just a few feet ahead of him. She nodded, a proud grin on her face. She began to inspect her nails as she spoke.

"Oh, you _might_ have heard of him." She replied, as she held her hand out at arm's length, continuing to stare at her nails as though scrutinizing an oddly shaped rock.

"He's known as Thunder." She finished casually. Archie's jaw gaped in disbelief.

Thunder. The name was legendary. A legendary name for a legendary warrior and hero, a man from distant shores who came to Albion to reap great fame and fortune with his strength and skill. Of course, he was most well known as a champion of the Witchwood arena, located on a wooded island a few miles off the shores of Albion. Thunder had been a well known name particularly among Oakvale's younger residents, especially Archie, who oft-times daydreamed of fighting side by side with (or sometimes against) Thunder as a fellow hero.

His mother had commented on how he shouldn't look up to Thunder, as he was 'a massive, ugly brute with no class.' Archie waved off these words whenever his mother uttered them, and continued to listen to the great exploits of the hero from wandering storytellers and traders.

And now, barely four feet in front of him, stood the legend's sister. She shifted uncomfortably under his prolonged, disbelieving gaze.

"Um, could you… could you not stare, please." It was a command, not a question. Archie blinked, overcoming his shock.

"So, what next? Ah yes! The will practice area." Whisper declared. She turned, and continued running south, with Archie struggling to keep up. They eventually came to a bridge leading to a tiny island surrounded by a ring of water sprouting from twin waterfalls spitting from atop a cliff overlooking the guild. As the pair stepped onto the island, which was about four meters in diameter, Archie noticed three straw dummies, similar to the ones at the archery range. Whisper turned to him again.

"This is where we will be practicing magic, not many people here are too good at it though, except for Maze perhaps. Personally, I prefer to use my quarter staff." She said, gesturing with her hands to emphasis her point. Archie nodded, gazing at the dummies; they were slightly singed in places, and were adorned with various burn marks. Archie lifted a hand and stared at it.

The guild could teach him _magic_?

He clenched his fist, imagining what he could do if he had the power of the will at his disposal. Once again he found himself daydreaming of the things he could achieve as a hero. But a young, mocking laugh interrupted his thoughts. He and Whisper turned; coming across the bridge was a trio of older boys, all of them around fourteen.

The two shorter ones, who were quite bulky, took up the rear, with confident grins on their pudgy faces. The leader, a tall, athletically built youth, stared down at everything with his brown eyes as though looking upon something more insignificant than him. The three wore the robes of guild apprentices.

They came across the bridge to stand before Archie and Whisper and the leader addressed them as he slid his right hand over his finely combed blonde hair.

"Greetings, miss foreigner" he said, addressing Whisper with a high class accent. Whisper growled angrily in response.

"What are we doing today?" asked the boy on the right mockingly, his pale green eyes twinkling.

"probably bein' savage is what" the boy to the left answered. Archie could barely see Whisper's right eye twitching. The leader clicked his tongue, mocking disappointment.

"To think the guild is letting in savages now…" he shook his head dissaprovingly. Whisper's hands balled into fists as she struggled to contain her anger.

"And now she's teaching others to be savage as well" the boy to the left said, pointing a large finger at Archie, who stiffened as the three boys turned their gazes on him. The leader sneered as he looked at Archie's clothing.

"A peasant boy." He spat in disgust. Archie felt a knot tighten within him.

"Now, now, we should be courteous." The boy to the right cautioned. The leader nodded approvingly.

"Of course," he said, turning to his companions.

"We've been so rude." He said, his lips curling into a cruel grin. His companions began to giggle.

"What would our mothers say?" he finished, his companions doubled over in hysterical laughter. The leader quickly silenced them, and turned back to face Archie.

"This is Jeobe," he said, pointing to his left. The boy on the right, Jeobe, snorted.

"Darred," he continued, motioning to his right. The boy to the left bowed mockingly. The leader pointed to himself now.

"And I'm Baine," he said, stepping closer to Archie.

"_Master_ Baine" he emphasized the word master, as he towered over Archie.

Archie had just made a decision about _'master'_ Baine.

"You'll soon get used to the fact that not everyone here belongs," Baine said, glancing at Whisper.

"Especially not foreigners." He finished. Archie could hear Whisper grind her teeth. Baine turned back to Archie.

"I expect you'll agree with me, hm?" Baine asked, mocking a smile.

"He can't talk, Baine" said Darred from the side.

"Or he just doesn't want to." Jeobe corrected. Archie continued to gaze up at Baine.

"Well, a simple handshake should do nicely." Baine held out a gloved hand to Archie, who glanced between Baine, his hand, and Whisper.

He definitely didn't like Baine. Archie turned to Whisper again, who was still fuming, and gave a subtle, unsmiling wink. She blinked in surprise.

Archie turned to look back up at Baine, and began to reach out his hand. Baine's smile widened, until Archie's hand enclosed around his wrist. Archie then proceeded to spit into Baine's glove.

"Why you insolent son of a-!" shouted Baine raising his other fist over his head to strike Archie. At that moment however, Whisper ducked in between the two and pushed Baine away. Darred and Jeobe caught their leader in their arms, and prepared to lunge forward to punish Whisper and Archie. Baine held them back.

"There's no point, that bastard's not joining the guild anyway." He began, his confident smile returning. Whisper stood between the three and Archie, curious to Baine's words.

"That farm boy knows he can't be a hero, he couldn't do anything about Oakvale!" Baine continued.

"So why doesn't that stupid little boy go back to his burnt down hovel in that Skorm-forsaken shit pile? Go back and join those miserable dead peasants that don't know a damn how to fight back!" Baine finished, looking behind Whisper. Darred and Jeobe chuckled. Baine turned, and his lackeys followed faithfully. The tension in Whisper's muscles now faded, and she turned now to face Archie in order to thank him.

But Archie was shaking. Terribly. His eyes were welling up with tears, as images of the dead once again forced their way into his mind. Tears now rolled freely down his cheeks, and Whisper's words of comfort were lost on him. Without thinking, Archie tore away from Whisper, who called for him to come back. All he could do was run, it didn't matter that he was tired, it didn't matter that he was being torn up from the inside by his grief.

All he could do was run. Run away, as though to leave behind the grief, the pain, and those cold, terrified faces that had names in life, men and women who had played roles in Archie's years as a child, they had told him stories, taught him songs, cared for him, been there for him.

And now, along with his family, they were nothing but rotting corpses.

Archie just made it across the bridge, when a pair of strong hands caught him by the shoulders. He struggled blindly against the man trying to calm him. But eventually he was too tired to move.

"Now, that's better." Came Maze's cold voice. Archie turned to look up into the mage's face.

"Those lads were giving you trouble weren't they?" he asked evenly. Archie nodded, wiping a tear away.

"What did you do?" Maze asked. Archie stared back questioningly.

"Did you try to fight back?" he continued. Archie shook his head.

"I can see you're sad, I understand what you're going through." Maze's gaze drifted away from Archie a moment, and Archie could've sworn he saw Maze's eyes glint with some long ago memory. Maze shook slightly, and turned back to Archie.

"But what do you intend to do about it?" he asked roughly. Archie averted the older man's gaze, considering the question.

"Do you intend to run from what happened like you run from a bully?" Archie's head jerked up to look up into Maze's bright blue eyes.

"What would your friends think of you? That would make you a coward, running from something that scares you, or something that's painful," Maze continued.

"Not to say you should stick around for every fight, but the things you do experience, you should try to get something out of it." Archie frowned. How could he salvage anything good out of the destruction of his home and family?

"As I said to you before; wouldn't your family want revenge if you were the one that had been killed?" Maze asked. Archie's brows furrowed, still uncertain of the man's words. Maze's eyes softened ever so slightly.

"Come with me." Maze commanded, turning to walk toward the courtyard of the castle. Archie followed obediently as Maze led him past expertly cut bushes; cut to the likenesses of various beasts and heroes. Archie found himself looking upon four coffins crafted out of silver and gold, set firmly into the earth. The symbol of the guild was emblazoned at the head of each tomb, shining of platinum. Small tombstones of rock were planted at the foot of each coffin, on each of them there were scrawled words written in gold. Maze motioned Archie forward.

"These are the tombs of Albion's greatest heroes," Maze began, sweeping an arm forward in the direction of the coffins. Maze pointed to the rightmost tomb.

"That is Holdr, he tamed the last dragon, and for a time protected the southern lands," Maze continued. Archie stepped toward it, and bent down, reading the tombstone

_Here lies Holdr; who tamed the last dragon seen in Albion and founded the dragon knights. They guarded all the peoples of the southern lands._

Archie looked back up at the tomb behind the tombstone. His eyes suddenly widened. Instead of the grave being a closed coffin, the lid (which was sealed most tightly on the grave) was made of clear glass. Through this, Archie saw an aged man in his mid sixties; his face bore several scars, and he wore mail of the finest quality, and his body had been laid on what looked to be very soft sheets and pillow. A sword of black steel rested at the man's side.

"A spell is put on each grave to preserve those whose deeds shall never be forgotten," Maze explained, seeing the puzzlement in Archie's eyes. They turned to the coffin to the left; Archie peered in, and saw a woman who would have been of vast beauty in life; her hair was raven black, having been combed back with care and skill, she wore a bright red dress, decorated with golden vines. Despite not looking the hero for wear, the woman's youthful features did not hide (even in death) a silent determination in her furrowed brows and frowning, pale lips. An arms length rod was set next to her, at its head was an orb crafted in the image of a skull.

"Delfe, The most powerful sorceress in her time." Maze commented. Archie ran to read from the tombstone.

_Here lies Delfe, once the most powerful sorceress in Albion. Though she dedicated most of her life to selfish pursuits and the torment of others, she would later repent and renounced her most devastating powers for the good of the guild._

He turned to the next tomb now; which held a man in his late eighties, his skin was wrinkled and old, and he wore a long blue robe, with a hood that hid his hair. His lips seemed to be set in a pleasant smile, as though when he had faced death, he had been glad to die in such a way.

"Solcius…" Maze said. Archie bent down to look at the tombstone.

_Here is buried Solcius, the legendary mage who sacrificed his own life while performing his greatest spell, closing a vortex that threatened to engulf Bowerstone._

Now they went to the last coffin. Archie awaited Maze's explanation, but the mage was silent. Archie looked through the clear glass, but instead of finding a long dead legend, the sheets and pillow were without a body. Archie ran to the tombstone.

_This grave awaits a hero worthy of the legends that lie here._

Archie turned, searching Maze for the reason he had shown him this.

"I'm trying to show you that your life is not over, rather you have an opportunity to start anew," Maze began, after noticing the question in the boy's eyes.

"These are heroes who made the most of an opportunity that many don't receive; they have earned recognition, and I dare say they felt they lived a complete, full life." Maze finished, studying Archie's reaction. The boy turned back to the tombstone of the empty coffin, pondering his words.

"All I'm saying is; This doesn't have to be the end for you. You can continue, grow, learn, and, as I said, if you are going to seek revenge…" Maze continued, and Archie turned slightly.

"Then this is the best place to learn how." Maze finished. Archie turned to face Maze fully, but didn't look him in the eyes.

"Just think about it, and besides, you don't really have anywhere else to go, do you? I suggest you do join the guild, you would benefit from it, see me in my quarters when you have made up your mind." With that, Maze turned, heading towards his tower. He momentarily stopped by Solcius' grave, staring at the man lying dead in his coffin, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken question. But Maze shrugged, and continued on his way, leaving Archie to his thoughts.

Archie was sitting in the mess room, pondering what to do next. He had lost everything in his life as a farm boy; his home, friends, and family. Everything was going by in a flash, without his consent or will. He looked up and around him.

He was in the guild of heroes.

The bandits, they had taken everything from him. They had cut away the choices he could have made had they never come, he could have been a farmer, a baker, a trader, a blacksmith, a…the list went on in Archie's mind as he realized there was no chance of him becoming any of these things now that he had no family to fund apprenticeships or education. So what was left?

'The guild' Archie whispered. He looked up again, to see the tavern master staring at him suspiciously. He ignored the man's gaze, and returned to his own thoughts.

So he would become a hero then, and then he would find those responsible for destroying his life, he would find the power to make his choices again.

"Farm boy?" came Whisper's voice. Archie turned in his seat to face Whisper.

"That took some guts, insulting Baine so openly." She continued. Archie gave the slightest hint of a smile.

"So, there's one place you haven't been to yet…" she continued. Archie nodded.

Maze's tower.

Archie climbed the stone stairs, each step echoing as he climbed higher and higher. Whisper had elected to remain below, saying that Maze intimidated her slightly. But what was so intimidating about Maze? Archie thought to himself. If anything, Maze's presence was cold, yet a great comfort to those on his good side, he radiated power, Archie recalled, he had felt it in the hairs on his neck.

He was fairly certain of what he would decide, though was still uncertain. Maze's advice had certainly helped him though, even if he decided not to become a hero, he would continue to live.

As Archie neared the top of the stairs, voices reached his ears. One was Maze's, the other… rumbled like a quiet earthquake. Archie climbed a few more steps in order to peek over from the stair case.

Maze's quarters were indeed well furnished; a large bookcase was set up along the right wall. Across from this was a study desk close to the stairs, further along was an inviting fire place, beyond these was a large window adorned with the guild seal overlooking the grounds. Maze stood with his back to the stairs, talking to someone.

Someone wearing a thick, blue fur coat. That was the first thing Archie noticed, but, looking up, his eyes widened, and he almost yelped with fright.

The man wearing the coat was a corpse, or at least, he looked like one.

Rotting, tattooed flesh peeled off the man's bones, the skin having turned a dirty grey with age. The man, or corpse rather, had lost all of its hair, with only a golden head band adorning the rotting skull.

The corpse's nose appeared to have rotted away, and his lips (at least, Archie thought it was a 'he') had all but disappeared, leaving half rotten teeth out in the open for all to see.

And deep in the corpse's sockets were the remains of two, glowing red eyes.

"The journey's length is of no matter to me," the corpse said, not noticing Archie peering over the stairway.

"The oracle _must_ be protected; there is much I may learn there." The corpse finished with an eerie sigh. Maze snorted.

"How can you be so sure? We might need you here… Who knows what battles we may face?" Maze asked, showing nothing but contempt for the living corpse.

"The signs are too strong to ignore. Too long have the northern wastes been closed to us." The corpse countered calmly. Archie could sense some subtle rivalry between the two.

"Well, I hope you're not running away from a fight, trying to cheat death _again_… you know how people talk…" Maze answered, gesturing meaningfully.

"Talk is of no matter to me. May Death close his eyes to you Maze." The corpse finished, and taking a guild seal from its left coat pocket, disappeared in a haze of blue light.

A long silence ensued, Maze kept his back to the stairway, supposedly in deep thought. Archie turned to leave.

"What are you waiting for? Come in." said Maze without turning. Archie stiffened, turned, and climbed the last couple of stairs to stand behind Maze. The mage turned and, seeing the question in the boy's eyes, spoke.

"That was Scythe," Maze explained.

"He was a hero once, back when he had flesh on his bones, and blood in his veins. He's only a shell now." Archie swallowed the information with some difficulty. Maze turned away from Archie to stand in front of the fireplace, Archie could see Maze wrestling with some thought behind his bright eyes.

"What does he know of the choices we have to make?" Maze asked of no one in particular.

"Of what it takes to get things done?" anger rose in Maze's voice as he spoke the last statement. Archie watched and listened with a cautious interest. Maze sighed and turned to look at Archie.

"I assume you've made up your mind, Archie?" Maze asked, his face calm once more. Archie lowered his head in thought, it was now or never. He replied.

"Well…" Archie began hoarsely, hesitating over his answer. He realized this would be a life changing decision, but then what choice did he have?

Archie shut his eyes. He could simply stay here, and then have nothing to do afterward. Or, he could devote his full effort into this, and earn the skill and strength he would need to carve his own destiny, and avenge his family. He looked up at Maze.

Maze, seeing the look of determination in the young boy's eyes, gave a rare smile, knowing what Archie's answer would be.

"I will join the guild." Archie declared.

A/N: forgive me for some lack of introduction; this story follows the same one as the game, though I have come up with my own character for the hero (Archie), and I will be developing the characters more than they were in the game. I may also make a sequel to the lost chapters; perhaps delve into unknown aspects of the world of Albion.

In the meantime, I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far, and I hope you will continue reading subsequent chapters. Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. By the way, Nelsa is an original character, i promise to provide backstory later in the story for her.


	4. Chapter 4

Fable

Chapter 4

_Archie finished the knot with a proud grin. Shading his eyes from the midday sun, he lifted his gaze to peer at the waters surrounding the ship._

_The sea was calm now, the storm had passed, and there was not a cloud in sight._

_He had survived._

_Archie had pulled through despite the odds stacked against him and had ridden the ship out of the storm._

_His heart glowed with pride as though warmed by a comfortable fire. Stepping along the deck of the ship, Archie took in what damages had been done, noting what he could that needed repairing… not that he knew where he'd get extra wood._

_But he would, because he felt it within him, he was determined that it would happen so that he could continue his journey. Not that he knew where he was going either._

_But he had a purpose now: get the journey started right, and then head for the best destination._

_Archie half smiled, remembering the horror of the storm, the loss of control he had experienced as the waves had flung the ship back and forth. But he had taken control._

_With that, his smile widened._

"Out of bed, Lazy bones!"

Archie awoke to Whisper's nagging voice. He groaned as he opened his eyes.

Whisper was leaning over him, wearing that same disapproving look she had given him five weeks ago, when they had first met.

Since then, Archie had been introduced to the tough regime of pre-guild training. Each day, he, along with other apprentices his own age, were taken for long runs through the guild woods. There were always variations to these runs; there were always different obstacles each day. The trainers sometimes told the apprentices to work together, other times to work separately. Often times, while the instructor was informing the other apprentices of what to do, Archie would have already started on his own, or even finished the obstacle, and continued running.

The instructors had warned him many times not to do this, since there were large beetles with large bites that were reputed to take days to heal. Archie had to force himself to wait for the others, even though they dropped onto their stomachs with fatigue, or asked the instructors if they could go back and rest.

These were the apprentices that never lasted long. The group size would change; sometimes the number in the group would swell, other times the numbers diminished to only a handful of boys and girls.

But Archie was always there, forever determined to remain, to complete what he had begun.

And now Whisper was disturbing his sleep.

Archie and Whisper hadn't exchanged conversation often due to Whisper's advanced experience as an apprentice. Their training regimes were separate, and took up much of their time, so they hardly even passed each other except when going to sleep in their shared quarters.

"Come on! Today's the day!" she shouted, tugging at his arm. He replied with a weak mumble. Whisper tugged more roughly on Archie's arm this time, and ended up pulling Archie from under the covers to land with a painful thud on the stone floor. He yelped in surprise, and sprang to his feet, rubbing the sore bump on his forehead. He glared up at Whisper.

"This is the day you've been waiting for! You're finally going to get to go into the melee ring!" Whisper shouted, impervious to the angry gaze Archie gave her.

But at these words Archie stiffened.

The melee ring.

He had forgotten. Today he would be advancing onto the next stage of his training; he was finally going to be taught how to fight. He looked to the window, and his eyes widened with horror.

It was mid morning, and he had been told to be there just after dawn.

"You see? Aren't you glad that I'm-" before Whisper could finish speaking, Archie had dashed off down the stairs, ignoring the pain in his forehead. Whisper sighed.

"Too eager." She stated.

There had been times when Archie's mind wandered back to the night of his home's destruction, and to the others he had left behind.

Lirschell, Roger, Emily, Tom, Jeffery, and the others: what had happened to them?

But these names brought back images of the dead, so Archie didn't linger on them for long.

He passed through the mess hall at breakneck speed, his fitness having improved with exercise and a diet of fruits, vegetables and fine meats, and the lack of sweet foods had definitely benefited him.

He nearly knocked over the barmaid, Deidre, who had to balance herself carefully so as not to drop her tray of beer glasses. Archie passed through the right archway, surprising some of the older apprentices as he passed by. He made his way across the bridge, and ran straight for the melee practice ring, where the guild master was waiting with an amused smile on his face. Archie slowed to a halt as he bent down, trying to catch his breath.

"So… you've finally pried yourself from your pillow I see." The guild master stated evenly. Archie looked up into the old hero's face, and gave a weak smile.

"Alright, let's see if you've any potential. Get into the ring." The guild master commanded, opening the gate. Archie stepped through, having regained his breath. Looking up, he saw a man sized dummy painted with red bulls' eyes on its head and torso. Archie turned sidelong to look at the guild master, waiting for orders.

"It's quite simple," the guild master began.

"Just give the dummy a few good whacks, go on." The guild master motioned with his hands. Archie turned back to the dummy, and slowly raised his fists. Lunging forward, he slammed his fists into the dummy as quickly and with as much power as he could. He carried on without a break, his forehead breaking out with sweat, when the guild master finally called for him to stop.

The guild master stood silent for a moment, appraising the performance he had witnessed. Finally he spoke.

"Not really making much of an impact, are you?"

Archie stiffened with worry.

"… But then, no one can really be expected to make an impact with their bare fists." The guild master finished. Archie sighed in relief.

"Here, try it with this." The guild master retrieved a small, wooden sword from his side, and threw it to Archie, who caught it at the handle. Archie tested it in his hand, swinging it at a mock enemy. He turned back to the dummy as the guild master continued.

"Let's see what you can do with-" but the guild master was cut short as Archie swung around, delivering blow after blow on the lifeless dummy, which bent and creaked on its single wooden leg with each swift, fury driven attack. For in Archie's mind, he wasn't attacking a straw dummy with a stick, he was delivering powerful attacks to a bandit with a well honed blade of steel.

The guild master watched, semi-stunned, as Archie continued to batter the dummy, untiring, unwavering, even though the boy's muscles burned with each strike. Finally, after the battering it had received; the dummy was torn in half at the torso by Archie's final strike. The top part of the dummy fell back, its bulls' eye skyward from its prone position.

Archie's shoulders heaved as his breathing returned to normal. The guild master rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated the boy's performance.

He was definitely fierce… perhaps even reckless, but with time the guild master was certain Archie would gain the calm of a natural swordsmen, and he definitely showed great potential. But he certainly needed to control his temper.

"Good job, lad." The guild master said, opening the gate to let Archie out.

"You show potential, I'll say that, but you still have a long way to go, Archie." Archie exited the melee ring, and nodded, unsmiling, at the guild master. The gate shut behind him.

Archie glanced skywards and nearly gasped; the sun was now three quarters into its cycle, and was hovering over the tree line. He quickly turned back to the guild master.

"Alright then, now tomorrow we'll-" the guild master began, but he was cut off by the loud ringing of what Archie recognized to be the guild alarm, the softer sounding one, for minor emergencies. The guild master turned on the spot, eyeing said bell just outside the guild woods, being rung by one of the servants.

"What in Avo's name-?" the guild master began, walking toward the guild apprentice. Archie followed, curious about what was going on. The guild master stood before the servant, a small, thin fellow dressed in drab garments that looked as though they had recently been torn, and addressed him.

"What is it now, Morgan? Another nest of frogs? Hmmm?" asked the guild master, his voice full of contempt for Morgan. Morgan shook his bald head briskly.

"No guild master! This really is important! There's-"

"Now if this turns out that you have mistaken a rabbit for a hobbe again, I'll-"

"BEETLES! THERE ARE BEETLES IN THE WOODS! **BIG** ONES!" Morgan shouted at the guild master, who now looked rather ruffled. Morgan cleared his throat and muttered a silent apology. After a moment the guild master replied.

"And there's no one around to deal with it?" he asked. Morgan shook his head. The guild master sighed, then, remembering what he had just witnessed, turned to smile at Archie.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to practice against those beetles, would you? Maybe earn some pocket money?" the guild master asked enthusiastically. Archie nodded. The guild master clapped his hands together.

"Alright then! Go into the woods, find those beetles, and come back when you've finished them off. I will give you your reward when you get back." The guild master declared. Archie nodded one last time, gripped the wooden sword in his hand, and sprinted off into the woods.

The guild woods were the source of most of the guild's meals. Deer and other game were hunted, and berries were picked from specific bushes to make pies. The trees themselves provided fire wood, and were host to many species of bird that nested during the spring. A river ran through it, also providing a 

source of fish, the river also divided the woods from a heap of ruins that had originally been a building from the old kingdom. But Archie was not here to look at animals or ruins.

He was here to hunt giant beetles.

Archie had heard that the beetles native to the guild woods could grow to the length of a man's arm, and that their pincers were as large as one's hand. Archie shivered. He would be careful to avoid being bitten.

His sandals clacking against the forest floor, Archie made his way up an incline leading to the hill in the centre of the woods. He became aware of an incessant buzzing, which increased in volume as he climbed the slope.

Archie's grip tightened on the wooden likeness of a sword, as he saw a nest of ten or so of the beetles in the shade of a fallen tree trunk. The insects' exoskeletons were colored a deep shade of purple, or even black, most of the nest crawled about on their six, multi-jointed limbs, unaware of Archie's presence. However, three of the beetles had noticed their guest, and hovered in the air with their hand sized wings. They glared at Archie with menacing red eyes; their fierce mandibles snapped open and shut, and hovered toward him.

Archie took the initiative; he lunged at the nearest beetle, which hovered just six feet from him, and swung the wooden sword wildly. The beetle's natural finesse in the air and small size allowed it to easily dodge Archie's untrained swings. But Archie landed a lucky clip on the beetle's right wing, sending it hurtling to the ground. Archie leapt, stomping down on the insect, and crushing It with a sickening squish as his sandal crunched through the exoskeleton, leaving a lumpy mass of green bile and exoskeleton in place of the once complete beetle.

Archie turned swiftly on the spot to dodge a bite from the next beetle, which followed the boy's movements with unblinking eyes. Archie aimed carefully this time, and his strike was true, his weapon hit the beetle full on. The beetle fell to the ground and lay still.

By now the other beetles became aware of their attacker, and they all rose at once as a dark cloud, hovering forward with snapping jaws seeking vulnerable flesh.

Archie swung his arms and sword as the insects encircled him, and gritted his teeth as the beetles tore at his skin, leaving light, but stinging, bite marks. Archie swung his weapon full circle, clutching the handle with both hands; he managed to hit two with this strike, they fell and were still.

The six beetles remaining hovered back suddenly, startled by their assailant's ferocity. Taking advantage of their new found hesitance, Archie lunged at the nearest beetle, slashing downward, pulverizing the insect as a black-smith pounds metal into an anvil with a hammer.

He turned, slashing apart another beetle. In quick succession, Archie leapt from beetle to beetle, slashing them to oblivion with his sword. He came to the last beetle, which by now had realized it was fighting a loosing battle, and it began to hover away to hide in the bushes. Archie leapt after it, and grabbed the creature by the husk of its wings. It struggled, in vain, as Archie repeatedly smashed the creature against a nearby tree trunk until it lay still in his hands.

Archie's breath calmed, still holding the beetle in his hand. Deciding he would keep the beetle's corpse as a trophy, and hung it at his belt by its back legs. Archie then made his way back down the slope and exited the guild woods.

"How many were there?"

"How big were they?"

"Did they bite you?"

These were just some of the questions hurled at him after he had reported in to the guild master. Archie had been rewarded with twenty gold coins and the rest of the day off, and he had intended to buy himself a few extra pies to eat in peace; but apparently word of his successful hunt had spread to the far end of the guild and back, and several young apprentices were now asking unnumbered questions of him in the mess hall. Archie would only answer with silence, only displaying the dead insect in response. His audience clapped.

"How'd you go about it then?"

"How hard did you have to swing your sword?"

"Were there any ones that were bigger?"

"Wow, I wish I could have seen it!"

Archie's audience erupted into a wall of applause; Archie beamed, if this was what being a hero was going to be like, then he would enjoy this very much.

Many hours had passed since his praise in the mess hall. The sun was now below the horizon, but there was still time left before he had to return to his quarters. He strolled alongside the river, enjoying the crisp night air, and the first stars of evening twinkled and winked at him from the otherwise blank expanse of the heavens.

He peered into the river alongside him, and stared at his reflection staring up at him from the water, and wondered what he would look like in the years to come…

Laughter disturbed the peace of the night's silence. Archie jerked up to see Baine, Darred and Jeobe making their way toward him. His stomach jumped to his throat, but he wasn't about to run. The trio halted six feet from Archie.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Baine asked. Archie answered with silence.

"Still a dumb mute I see." Jeobe stated from Baine's left.

"And yet he seems to be getting plenty of attention." Darred stated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Baine laughed.

"You two simpletons! It just goes to show how low the guild has come! Praising beetle slayers! Work for a peasant! Oh wait… You _are _a peasant! Nothing more!" Baine said, pointing at Archie. The three teens chuckled to themselves. Archie's hands tightened into fists, and he nearly reached for his wooden sword, to teach Baine not to discredit someone for their victory. But Archie closed his eyes and turned away, ignoring the trios' laugher, the trouble, as well as the bruises he'd earn, wasn't worth the one or two hits he'd land on Baine. He began to walk away. But Baine wasn't done, he and his lackeys followed.

"Yes, yes… Just a peasant," he called calmly to Archie, who continued walking.

"A peasant… and a son of a coward father!" Baine called. Archie suddenly halted. Baine smiled, seeing the boy's shoulders begin to shake. Baine silently praised his own clever use of words.

"What'd you say?" Archie asked calmly, ignoring the burn in his throat.

"Your father, he died a coward I imagine, though you deny it. You see, _my_ father, who is wealthy and well, has a friend who had associations with a bandit who was part of the raid." Baine began, his smile turning into a smug sneer at his cleverness at such a story. Though his father was rich, and indeed confided in bandits (and was partial to the hiring of assassins), Baine's father, at least to Baine's knowledge, confide in any bandit that took part in the Oakvale raid.

"This bandit told my father's friend, who then told my father, who then told me, that he had hunted down a man, a wood cutter, your father was a wood cutter wasn't he? Then he presented the man to his leader. The wood cutter you see then begged for his life… like a dog. He begged to be set free, even if all the rest of the town was sacked and its people slaughtered, he begged only for his life, and none else, then he was killed right there on the spot!" Baine finished triumphantly as he watched Archie's shoulders shake more violently now. Baine chuckled, as did his lackeys. Had Baine just been a little more alert, he would have seen that Archie had also reached for his wooden sword, and was, at that moment, running towards him with his weapon drawn.

Jeobe was the first to notice the oncoming attack, and managed to yelp as the end of Archie's sword collided with the side of Baine's face. The bully tumbled to the ground, where Archie followed, now having abandoned his sword, he leapt atop Baine, and pounded his face with his fists.

"TAKE IT BACK!" Archie shouted at the top of his lungs. His throat roared with pain, but he took no heed.

"Son of a coward!" Baine managed to spit back through bloody teeth. Archie was enraged further, and shouted curses as he continued to beat his fists into Baine's face. Jeobe and Darred took action then, and tried to pry Archie from their master, but to no avail. Archie clung to Baine, and would not be parted until either he or his victim were dead; such was his anger. Suddenly, something seemed to snap in Archie's neck, and he suddenly felt very faint, his grip loosened, and Darred and Jeobe threw him away.

As Archie lay on his side, he saw a pool of his own blood building up next to him; he had certainly overextended himself with his shouting. He was dimly aware of Baine and his gang standing over him, he 

heard the crack of their knuckles as he prepared himself for a world of pain as he began slipping into darkness.

But it never came. In its place came a soothing warmth, such as when the spell Maze had conjured saved his life from the bandit blade. He shook his head, dazed, but he was aware of raised voices. He recognized Baine's, and then he could tell the other voice belonged to an older woman. Archie blinked open his eyes.

Nelsa. Though she had never had a long conversation with Archie over the past few weeks, she had kept her word to tend to any serious injury he suffered, which had been few, until now. She was cradling Archie in her arms, and staring up at Baine and his gang with a venomous glare.

"Be gone from here! You shall hear from the guild master for this!" she declared, and off they ran, away into the guild. She turned her gaze to Archie with kind but unsmiling eyes. She helped him to stand, which took some time, for his legs were like straw for the first few minutes, but he stood ultimately, and retrieved his sword. He almost muttered a 'thank you' but thought better of it for the sharp pain ringing in his throat.

He turned to face Nelsa with intention to give her a meaningful smile, but was met with her open palm colliding with his cheek instead of a comforting smile. He held his cheek, shocked as it turned red from the impact in seconds. He looked into Nelsa's eyes, which were narrowed with anger.

"You foolish child! I thought you were wiser!" she shouted. Archie averted his gaze, but not out of guilt, rather out of annoyance, for he could foresee a lecture pending.

"Did I not warn you well enough!? You must not shout! And what's worse, you've attacked a fellow apprentice!" She continued, though her face began to soften.

"You should know by now not to listen to Baine's taunts." She stated, placing her hands on her hips. Archie rubbed his cheek, and nodded reluctantly, he knew his father hadn't died a coward, if he hadn't fought, then why would he have held his axe with him, even in death…

Archie shut away the image of his dead father before it could overcome him, and he felt Nelsa's gloved hands inspecting his neck and cheek. She scrutinized Archie's scar carefully, then his cheek. Then nodded, as though confirming something to herself.

"The wound has been healed, though you shouldn't speak at all for some time, even with my healing, you shouldn't speak for at least a week. As for your cheek… You deserved it; you were quite foolish after all." She stated, standing up from her crouched position. Archie jerked his head up to look at Nelsa in annoyance, but saw the slightest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. He half smiled as well, and silently agreed with her.

"Now, I suggest you get to bed, you'll need to get up early, I'm not meant to say it; but the guild master was very impressed with your work today; as a result, you'll be put through some of the higher level lessons… and I don't think you'll be getting anymore free days anymore." Nelsa advised. Archie nodded slowly, then turned to head back to his quarters, he heard Nelsa as she called after him.

"And Archie? No more fights, for a while at least?"

A/n more of an in between chapter. Sorry for not updating in a while. Will update soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Archie came to know the skills quickly. But as he trained and honed his body, the guild educated his mind with the many books that he was assigned to read. They taught him geography, animals and creatures in the wild to fear, important figures in history (particularly heroes), how to step forward with a sword, how to swing it around without chopping off his own head. They taught him to aim a bow. They also taught him to read the weather. But no matter how much Archie tried, his mind would always momentarily return to the world outside, wondering what lay beyond those reinforced doors. But then he was called back to his studies.

Over the course of five years, he rose quickly through the ranks of apprenticeship, and Archie found that he had caught up with Whisper, despite her older age. They had quickly developed a rivalry; always when one or the other entered a competition, the other would enter soon after (followed by betting from those watching), and soon this rivalry developed into a competitive friendship. Though Whisper always won.

But always, Archie looked forward to the day when he would be handed a real sword, and fight against an actual person in the sparring ring, to test what he had learned, and truly prove himself.

Of course, on the day this was meant to happen, Archie was sleeping in, as he had done for the last five years.

Fortunately, Whisper had always been there to lend a helping hand, as she did now.

Archie suddenly found his sheets pulled off from over, and felt the chill as his veil was taken. He groaned, not being ready to wake up. Whisper sighed, reaching out a hand; she tugged harshly at Archie's messy hair (which Archie had refused to tidy up). Archie gave a yelp and woke, striking at Whisper's hand, which Whisper had retracted just in time. She gave him a harsh glare.

"There'll be enough time for that… At the sparring ring!" she shouted the last few words. Archie blinked, and then started in realization, he leapt from his bedside, and grabbed his apprentice shirt from the floor, and quickly threw it over his head. The outfit had been given to him (for it was required that older apprentices wear them) after his second year in the guild. The fabric was smooth and comfortable, and even worn loosely would keep an apprentice warm.

Archie had grown to stand at five and half feet tall, his arms and legs had lengthened, and most of his baby fat had gone from his face, and his body made resilient thanks to rigorous exercise. His scar, which had at first seemed to glow a bright red, had now faded to a thin line on Archie's chin and neck; but the damage he had suffered was still there, and he only rarely spoke, and then only a few words.

Archie finished tightening the last knots of his uniform, and sped through the archway, but quickly noticed Whisper following, he glanced back, questioning her with his eyes. She frowned at him.

"Didn't I tell you the other night?" She asked, placing her hands on her hips. Archie's brow furrowed. Whisper sighed.

"You might end up sparring with me today. You're going to be in my group." She declared. Archie's eyes widened slightly.

"Though I still don't think you have what it takes to beat me!" she continued with a grin. Archie had to resist from nodding in agreement.

"C'mon, we'll be late! I'll race you there!" Whisper finished, and sped past Archie down the stairs. Archie stood for a moment.

The possibility of fighting Whisper daunted him.

He had seen Whisper in the sparring ring before; she was ferocious, yet controlled. Her athletic skills allowed her to avoid being hit, and she could block most attacks. Archie shivered, but quickly followed to keep up with Whisper, telling himself he would prove to be an uneasy foe.

--

They reached the melee ring, where the guild master waited with a knowing smile. Alongside him stood Shadow, who would be evaluating the progress of the other students who were also there, including Baine and his gang, and a handful of healers (including Nelsa, who gave Archie an encouraging nod) to deal with any serious injuries that occurred. Archie knew the setup.

It would be set up like a tournament; pairs would be set up for duels, each time someone won they would go on to fight another student, those that lost would exit from the tournament and be given a grade based on their performance, and they would also be assigned to a particular training regime, to help deal with their weaknesses.

But before this was to happen, the guild master addressed the sixteen apprentices.

"Will the following step forward: Jasmine, Faeros, Archie."

Archie felt a knot tighten in his chest as he stepped toward the guild master alongside a girl and boy just a year older than himself. Though he felt his heart bursting with anticipation, he kept a calm face as he waited before the guild master, who turned to Shadow, and took a bound bundle from his arms. Unwrapping the cloth, the guild master revealed three swords wrought of iron. Though scratched and rusted, these weapons were still capable of delivering a fatal strike to a man, and could easily slice through light armor. (It was for this reason that weapons were enchanted to bluntness before a practice bout between apprentices, to prevent fatal injuries). The guild master turned back to Archie and the other apprentices.

"You still have a long way to go; but now you can do away with those sticks of yours, and practice with _real _weapons." The guild master held the swords by their scabbards, holding out their handles to the three students. Jasmine took hers first, bowed her head to the guild master, then strapped the scabbard to her left hip, and handed her wooden sword to the guild master, who summoned a burst of flame, reducing the wood to ashes in his hand. Everyone cheered, except for Baine and his lackeys.

The same process was repeated for Faeros. When it was Archie's turn, he took the blade with great care, as though greeting a new friend. He didn't notice Shadow's questioning glance at the guild master, who nodded in confirmation. Archie strapped the scabbard over his right shoulder, and then handed over his wooden sword.

As it left his hands and came into the guild master's, he felt as though he were handing back a great weight. Of course, he realized, it was in exchange for a new (but welcome) weight of an actual sword. The guild master burned the wood in his hands, and gave Archie an encouraging grin. Archie joined his class mates, who looked on him in a new light as they cheered. The guild master nodded to Shadow to begin.

"Alright, now that that's done with, we will begin. To those who have joined us, you are going to be pushed harder than you ever have been before. So be prepared for the next few years to be hell. Let's start!"

Preliminary pairs were set up quickly. There being sixteen students, there were eight pairs of combatants to begin, and therefore three rounds. Archie was paired with a thick, muscular boy, who swung with powerful blows, but was slow to act and awry with his aim. Archie defeated him quickly. Whisper fought just as easily through her first encounter against Faeros, who was more of an archer than a fighter. Jeobe was defeated in the first round, but Baine and Darred went on to the second.

Pairs were called, and Archie found that he had been paired with Baine, who smirked as they awaited their turn for their bout. Eventually it came to them, and they both climbed into the melee ring.

Archie had only recently figured out that Baine was only still in the guild because his father, who was indeed, quite rich, bribed the guild constantly to keep him in, and to soften punishments for Baine's 'undesirable' behavior. So Archie was glad; he finally would be able to show Baine what he was made of without worrying about getting into trouble. Glancing behind him, he noticed Baine's father, Garson, a tall man resembling his son in both attitude and hair color, and dressed in finely decorated clothes, approaching from over the bridge to the melee ring, where he greeted the guild master (who turned away in disgust).

Though he continued to smile confidently, Archie noticed Baine's nervous glances towards his father, who looked on expectantly, as everyone waited for the bout to begin. It would only begin when Shadow gave the word.

"You ready to be taught a lesson, peasant boy?" Baine asked confidently. Archie merely glared at him from under his eyebrows, and drew his sword in preparation for Shadow's words.

Then, there was only silence, as the two combatants awaited Shadow's signal. Archie remained perfectly still, while Baine fidgeted from restrained adrenaline.

"Begin!" Shadow shouted, lifted his arm up, signaling for the fight to start. Baine leapt forward with immense vigor, shouting a battle cry, and came forward intending to swing his blade at Archie's head, but Archie was ready. His sword, which he had been pointing at chest height, now flicked downward slightly as he flicked his wrist. As Baine closed the distance between them, Archie rotated his wrist, so that the back of his thumb was now parallel to the ground. Baine extended his sword arm. With a precise movement, Archie lifted the sword up to parry the attack with the base of his blade. The point of Baine's sword went awry, and Archie's blade was now prepared to lunge straight into Baine's exposed chest.

Archie lunged. Baine instinctively leapt to Archie's left, avoiding the attack.

But Archie's lunge was a feint. He had lunged to now stand by Baine's unprotected side, and swung his blade around in an arc, to collide with Baine's stomach.

Baine gave a stunned gasp, and crumpled to his knees, clutching his numb torso, and thanked his luck that the guild placed enchantments on the blades. The onlookers gave a cheer for Archie. Shadow leapt into the ring, and the healers were ready to leap in after him in case it turned out that Baine was seriously injured. Garson hid his face in his gloved hand.

Shadow quickly surmised that Baine wasn't seriously injured, so he began to count to five. If Baine didn't stand before the fifth count, he would be treated as the loser. Archie stood two meters away, waiting for his foe to rise, as was the custom for melee practice, in case a student became too engaged in the moment.

"One!" Shadow counted. Baine coughed roughly. How could he not have foreseen what that farm brat was about to do?.

"Two!"

Baine gritted his teeth, glancing briefly at his father's buried face. What expression was his father hiding behind his hand?

"Three!"

Baine, finding some new energy in his veins, picked up his sword lying at his side and leapt to his feet. Darred and Jeobe cheered from the sidelines. Shadow leapt away and out of the melee ring. Archie took his sword again in both hands.

"Begin!" Shadow shouted. Baine resisted the urge to strike wildly, and kept his distance, circling Archie. Archie's eyes never strayed from Baine's movements.

Baine seemed to relax a moment, puzzling Archie. Then, he suddenly took up his sword again, and lunged forward with controlled vigor. Archie parried the attack easily, but found that Baine was now following through with blow after blow, gradually forcing Archie back into the wall of the melee ring. Whisper watched interestedly from the sidelines, carefully studying both opponents' fighting styles. She was certain she would fight one of the two, and she was determined to win in either case.

Archie's foot hit the wall of the melee ring, and desperately blocked another of Baine's attacks, and held off his sword by the base of his own. He attempted to push away Baine's blade, but Archie's rival wouldn't give an inch. Archie quickly withdrew his left hand from his sword handle, and thrust his fist into Baine's gut. Baine stumbled backwards, earning cheers from the other apprentices.

Archie leapt forward, sword point first. Baine leapt to Archie's side however, and kicked at the back of Archie's knees. Archie gritted his teeth in pain, keeling over. Baine lifted his blade over his head to follow through with an armed attack, but his blade met rough dirt as Archie leapt to the side, twisted, and a well placed kick collided with Baine's face.

Baine fell back, losing his grip on his weapon. Archie leapt back to his feet, his sword in his right hand. He leapt to stand over Baine before he could rise, and raised his sword to his neck. Baine stared up the length of the blade to look up at Archie. Shadow once again leapt into the ring, counting again, but this time Baine had no way to gain an upper hand, and Shadow counted to five. The other apprentices cheered, and welcomed Archie as he exited the ring.

Baine quickly stood, and exited the ring without retrieving his sword, he passed by the cheering apprentices without a word. Jeobe and Darred retrieved his sword for him, and followed after him loyally, with Garson following closely, a scowl on his face as he glanced back to look at Archie, before disappearing over the bridge.

A/N I'm not going to update for a while, i'm going to be at camp, so it will take more than a week before the next chapter is posted.


	6. Chapter 6

Fable Chapter 6

His victory over Baine placed Archie in the top two; a considerable achievement, for someone who had only held his sword for a little more than an hour. But Archie realized who it was he would be facing inevitably.

Whisper.

Archie watched as she danced around her foe, confusing her opponent, then leaping from the left, and pinning them to the ground with her quarterstaff held against their throat, such a weapon was permitted to be wielded by her because of her advanced experience with the sword, so she was allowed to wield her custom weapon. Shadow counted to five, and Whisper was granted her victory. She exited the ring, smiling confidently at Archie.

The guild master addressed the students.

"Well it has been a tiring day for most of you, and you have all developed greatly in the past few years. But now we come to our final bout; Whisper, Archie, step forward."

Archie silently cracked his knuckles with his thumbs in anticipation, and stepped forward alongside Whisper, to stand before the guild master.

"By far you two have come farthest in the ways of melee combat, but there is still more to learn. This final bout will be of the normal kind, except that a special prize will be handed over to the winner. Good luck to both of you!" With that, Archie and Whisper handed over their weapons, which were then enchanted by the guild master and handed back.

As the two entered the ring, an excited murmur ran through the other apprentices, and Archie caught sight of betting money changing hands. Shadow stepped forward, holding out his arm in preparation to begin the duel. But a great, booming voice interrupted the tension before Shadow could say 'Begin!'.

"Guild master! Surely you will allow me to see Whisper fighting?" All eyes turned, including Whisper and Archie's, but no one noticed Whisper's smile drop.

A great figure of a man, clad in thick, golden plate armor decorated with snarling lions came striding toward the melee ring. He stood at just over eight feet tall, and his toned muscles were lean as well as muscular. His black hair was tied back into a long pony tail, and his almost black eyes glinted with confidence. His name was muttered in quick whispers by the apprentices standing by, and Archie quivered nervously on the spot in pure awe.

The arena legend Thunder, was here.

He marched to the edge of the melee ring, and turned to face the guild master, who quietly sighed in what seemed to be annoyance.

"Hello, Thunder, come to check on your sister's progress, have you?" the guild master asked, carefully hiding his annoyance. Thunder rolled his neck as he answered.

"You could say that… though I expect she is at a very advanced stage," Thunder replied evenly. Archie's knees quivered beneath him at his hero's voice. He was standing only a few meters away from the champion that he had aspired to be like ever since child hood.

The guild master nodded in reply.

"Yes, and I must say she is among one of our brightest pupils." He stated proudly. Whisper hid her face. Thunder scowled at the guild master.

"Then why is it that I hear that a…" Thunder turned, his eyes landing on Archie, who froze in place under his stare.

"…Farm boy… has been placed at her stage?" Thunder finished, his eyes narrowing at Archie, who frowned. The guild master, noticing Archie's reaction, replied quickly.

"Maze believes he has great potential, and he has certainly shown it," the guild master stated. Thunder faced him once more, and a zone of silence fell on those witnessing what was happening; no one dared to speak.

"So, besides going through training, this… boy, has done nothing save for kill a few wildlife in the woods?" Thunder asked, raising a thick eyebrow.

"Hardly worth recognition." Thunder finished. Archie was fuming. How dare this man say his accomplishments were not worthy of recognition? Hunting wildlife for feasts in the mess hall (a monthly ritual taking place each month by apprentices) was a difficult task, even for older students, and it wasn't easy to carry a whole deer from end of the forest to the other, as Archie had done many times, proving his skill with a borrowed bow many times.

Whisper drew her hood over her face, hiding her embarrassment and shame at her elder brother's words.

Archie had made a decision about Thunder.

"Killing a few wild animals shows nothing of one's potential, now Whisper is-" Thunder continued to argue, but was cut off by the sound of a drawn sword. All eyes turned to Archie, who now stood stoic, his eyes flaring with determination.

"Guild master," Archie began hoarsely. Though speaking was now no longer painful, though he felt as if a tight rope were pulling at the muscles in his neck. He pointed his sword at Whisper.

"Un-enchant her weapon," he finished. The other apprentices gasped; to face a foe with a weapon that was un-enchanted (even a blunt weapon) was a serious risk, and was only rarely practiced by graduates. Whisper looked up into Archie's face, searching for a hint of humor, but his face remained still, boring themselves into the guild master, who was just as stunned as anyone else. Nelsa fidgeted nervously under her robe. These bouts were just as dangerous, even with the enchantments. Thunder seemed almost amused.

"Archie, you don't have to-" Whisper pleaded, but Archie held up his hand for silence, and continued to stare at the guild master, willing him to do as he asked. If someone didn't deem him worthy, he would prove them wrong.

And Archie had decided to dislike Thunder for that reason.

The guild master stood silent for a few moments, but then waved Whisper over. There were hushed words from the other apprentices, as Whisper hesitantly handed her staff over to the guild master, who ran a hand smoothly along its surface, and then handed the weapon back. Nelsa opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it when the guild master glanced her way with a look that seemed to say: 'its his choice'. She was silent.

Whisper stepped back into the centre of the ring, and looked worriedly at Archie.

"You don't have to do this," she pleaded, sure that this would lead to more than a few broken bones. But Archie stared back coldly, and Whisper knew her words had fallen on deaf ears, so she lifted her weapon to fight. Shadow stepped forward at the guild master's bidding, lifting his arm.

Archie ground his back foot into the gravel, and didn't dare blink as he awaited the order to begin. A long, silent while passed, as those watching held their breaths in anticipation for what was about to happen, and many believed they knew what the outcome would be.

In an instant, Shadow raised his arm.

"Begin!"

Archie lunged forward, sword raised, eyes unblinking. Whisper, though surprised, managed to duck away from Archie's attack, and held up her staff in a parry as Archie swung back with his sword. Now lost in the adrenaline from Archie's attack, Whisper forgot that her weapon was no longer enchanted. She pushed Archie's blade away, nearly forcing him to the ground, and followed through by swinging her staff around in an arc, which Archie avoided.

"Come on, Whisper, show him!" Thunder cried from the sidelines, trying to encourage his sister. Whisper's gaze wavered for a moment, flicking to Thunder instead of keeping her eye on Archie, who lifted his sword to attack. Whisper noticed just in time, and leapt out of the way. Archie followed like a hound, though, and lunged. Whisper leapt upwards, and Archie's sword was met with empty air. Whisper landed behind Archie, and tripped him from behind with the end of her weapon, and stepped away.

But Archie leapt back up before Shadow could begin counting. He smiled wryly at Whisper.

"Come on, hit me!" He challenged, all those who were watching tensed, as Whisper's face contorted into anger. With a cry, she lunged forward, swinging her quarterstaff, Archie blocked Whisper's wild attack with his blade, and caught the end of the staff with his other hand. Before Whisper had time to act, Archie, pulling with his hand, swung Whisper and her staff around him. She fell in a clutter on the ground, but began to regain her feet.

"Come on, Whisper! Get your guard up!" Thunder shouted. Whisper sighed silently, glancing in annoyance at Thunder as she picked up her staff, ready to fight. Archie noticed the brief exchange, and prepared himself as Whisper lunged again. Whisper brought the first end of her staff downward in an arc, which Archie managed to parry, but Whisper twisted the quarterstaff in her hand, swinging the other end upwards to Archie's unprotected side.

The blow struck well, and Archie staggered back, clutching his right side. Worried whispers ran through the crowd of spectators. Thunder grinned broadly.

"That's it Whisper! Finish him!" he cried. Whisper glanced once again, wishing that her brother would just keep silent. Archie took advantage of Whisper's distraction, and, ignoring the pain, hefted his sword in both hands, and struck Whisper in the torso, she fell back, and Shadow was able to count to two seconds before she stood quakily to her feet. Thunder ground his teeth.

"Come on girl! Get your guard up!" he bellowed. Whisper ignored him this time, and, using her staff to leverage herself, vaulted herself from the ground, hitting Archie in the chest with her kick.

Archie stumbled, but held his ground, and parried Whisper's follow up attack with her staff.

"Get through his guard! Attack again!" Thunder seemed to be ordering Whisper now, instead of encouraging her. Whisper's concentration faltered again, and Archie pushed through her defenses, and swung at her feet, managing to trip her with his sword. Whisper immediately stood back up again, only to be barraged by a flurry of attacks from Archie, which she could only manage to block.

Archie gradually forced her back, losing himself in his adrenaline. Whisper's back met the opposite wall, and she gritted her teeth as she desperately blocked Archie's sword swings, all the time her brother shouting to her to force her foe back, and her arms growing weaker by the moment.

And then her arms gave out.

Archie swung his sword once more, knocking Whisper's quarterstaff from her hands, and skillfully tripped her with a sweeping kick. Whisper fell to her knees, as Archie swung round, heedless of his actions.

But the guild master could see what was about to happen, and decided that this was enough.

"STOP!" He shouted. Archie still swung around, swinging his sword downward toward the helpless Whisper, who had fallen to her knees. But the guild master's words pierced Archie's battle rage, and his sword stopped mere inches from Whisper's neck.

Had the blow connected, Whisper's neck would surely have been broken, despite any enchantment.

Everyone murmured excitedly as they realized what had almost happened, and watched as Archie's breathing slowed, and calmed. He glanced apologetically at Whisper, who averted his gaze. Archie stepped away, and Whisper stood, and reclaimed her staff. Before the guild master could say anything, Thunder turned on him, his voice full of rage.

"What are you doing?! Whisper could still have won!" he shouted. The guild master gave him a cold glare, and Thunder was silent. The healers, led by Nelsa, rushed into the sparring ring, to check the two combatants for injuries. Nelsa fidgeted as she studied the area that had received a blow from Whisper's staff, but after prodding the area (earning a few pained groans from Archie) decided that it would only bruise. Whisper was also similarly unharmed except for bruises around her ankles where Archie had tripped her.

The healers exited the ring, and the guild master addressed the two apprentices.

"That…was utterly reckless," He scolded. Archie turned his head away in shame, trying to imagine what would have happened if his blow had connected

"You two, though in particular you, Archie, caused yourselves unnecessary risk, and risk to your opponent. These are _practice bouts_, not death matches, too many times have I seen young heroes tearing each other apart in training, so too did I nearly see today." There was a morbid silence from everyone.

"However, the fault is also mine, for not intervening sooner. But I suggest that the both of you practice restraint, loss of control in combat will undoubtedly lead to the loss of your life." All the nearby apprentices gulped.

"In any case, we have a winner, Archie, Whisper, come forward." The guild master spoke these words without any merit, and the apprentices clapped calmly whereas they would have also cheered for the winner. Archie and Whisper exited the sparring ring, and Archie and Whisper were brought before Shadow.

Shadow smiled warmly, strange under the circumstances. The guild master addressed the two students standing before him.

"You have both fought well for your age group, and you have both learned considerably since your training began. But today, one of you showed clear advantage throughout the final bout." The guild master stopped for a moment, allowing the silence to drag out for effect. Finally he spoke.

"The winner is Archie." Cheering and clapping followed, as Archie's fellow students congratulated his victory and Archie felt a warm pride welling up in his chest, though he revealed nothing through his expression. He spotted Thunder scowl though, and the warmth in his chest disappeared as he remembered the death blow that almost connected with Whisper's neck. Whisper remained silent, and averted her gaze from both Thunder and Archie.

Shadow untied a bundle wrapped at his waist, and held it in front of him, before he threw away the cloth to reveal an iron sword held in a scabbard, though it was of advanced craftsmanship, and had only one bladed side.

A katana, these swords were not made by the craftsmen of Albion, and were thought to have been introduced to Albion during the reign of Archon, in the times of the old kingdom, when it was believed that much of the world was ruled by Archon. As such, katanas, even those that were made by lacking craftsmanship, were favorable over long swords due to their light weight, yet sharper edge, and were considered to be collector's items as much as deadly weapons due to their rarity.

Shadow held the scabbard out to Archie, who took it, nodding to both Shadow and the guild master, and then strapped it at his waist, there being the other scabbard at his back. The other apprentices clapped and cheered, and the warmth returned to Archie's chest.

!!

Meanwhile, across the river, Baine walked out of the guild's main building in a rage, followed cautiously by Jeobe and Darred.

Garson, believing his son had performed unfavorably, had insisted that Baine try harder, though he was none too gentle in making his point known. Baine had replied that he had already done the best he was doing, and had stormed away from his father, who had left in a hurry afterwards, a purpose shining in his eyes.

Baine slammed his fist into the bark of a nearby tree, and his breath slowed, and he stared at the ground beneath him, his eyes still brimming with rage. Jeobe stepped forward cautiously.

"Baine?" he asked, reaching out his hand. Baine didn't move, but he glared from under his brows at his friend. Jeobe retracted his arm, fearful of Baine's current mood. Darred shook his head.

"That Archie! That stupid peasant! You're better than him! He must have cheated…," he rambled quickly, speaking as quickly as he thought of something he thought would encourage Baine. Jeobe turned, nodded to Darred, then turned back to Baine.

"Darred's right! We all know that farm boy doesn't really know how to swing a sword!" Jeobe was silent for a moment, and then spoke again.

"I know! You know how Maze favors him? Well he must've gotten the wizard to cast some magic on him, or something!" Jeobe turned to Darred, who nodded quickly in agreement to Jeobe's story; anything to cheer up Baine, even false accusations, was the thing they did to do just that. Baine lifted his head by a fraction, and then straightened, peering over the river, where Archie was knocking an arrow to a bow at the archery range. Baine stepped forward, leaning against the railing by the river, his gaze unwavering. Darred stepped forward to stand next to Jeobe, and they exchanged worried glances.

"Baine?" Jeobe asked. Baine's shoulders heaved with a sigh. He turned to look at his companions, his eyes glowing with rage and determination; Jeobe and Darred did their best not to shudder at that look.

"If that's the case," Baine began, reaching for his sword hilt.

"Then he'll get what's coming to him!" Baine drew his sword, which glinted with as much malice as the gleam in Baine's eyes. Jeobe thought quickly, trying to think of something to deter his master, and spoke the first thing that came to mind.

"But how'll we get him on his own?" he asked. Baine seemed to falter for a moment, but then the malice returned to his eyes along with a cruel grin.

"I've got it." He looked from side to side, making sure no one else was nearby, and then motioned his companions to come closer.

"Listen carefully."

A/N: Sorry that i took so long with this, don't expect the next chapter for atleast a week.


	7. Chapter 7

Fable

A/N: For those aware of 'tales of Albion', I will be using my original storylines for background, so my background isn't the 'canon' version of Albion's history. Not that matters at the present moment…

Chapter 7

"Just remember to relax your muscles, you mustn't try to focus too hard, otherwise you'll just end up getting your face singed,"

Archie half smiled at the Will practice teacher's advice, but quickly turned his attention back to the dummy set up six feet in front of him, placed in the middle of the Will practice area. Archie stood at the entrance to the bridge crossing the gap between the main practice areas and the Will practice area, facing in the direction of the waterfalls, which gave a continuous, relaxing drone of falling water. The perfect spot to practice the ways of the Will. Clouds blocked out the sun overhead, and the air had grown chilly in the guild grounds since Archie's duel with Whisper, just an hour ago.

It had been explained to Archie, during his first three years at the guild, that the Will, though considered to be magic, was considered to be the power one had over one's environment. No one really knew the source of the Will, though it was a power in the environment believed to have been present since the beginning of the world. Since that time, man had discovered how to wield it for his own benefits, though modern scholars were arguing that the Will was growing weaker, and as a result, it was becoming more difficult to access, though not impossible. For this reason, students at the guild practicing magic were given Will stones, rocks that, when held by someone taught the methods of the Will, allowed apprentices to call upon it with greater ease. Archie, however, did not need a stone, and it was recommended by instructors to do without one if possible.

Will training had begun with mental exercises and meditation; relaxation balanced with focus were key to using Will powers, but Archie had found he excelled more easily at accessing the Will than his fellow students. Though this was the case, his teachers had insisted that he continue with the basics for the next few years, learning only simple Will powers, such as levitating pebbles. Only today would he be learning a more 'dramatic' spell; summoning lightning.

"Remember, find the image in your head, and focus on it. Oh, you may also find that this spell takes more out of you, so don't be surprised if you suddenly feel tired." The teacher advised again. Archie nodded; using Will powers also required physical endurance, and he had been warned many times not to attempt any particularly draining spells for his own safety.

Archie turned back to the dummy, and reached out his hand, relaxing his muscles, and visualizing a chain of lightning springing from his fingers in the direction of the large red bull's eye painted on the dummy's chest. He took careful breaths, and droned out all noises, trying instead to hear the crackle of lightning in place of running water.

Calling upon past exercises, he focused the image of the spell in the space around him, focusing the energy in his body in the direction of the dummy. Archie felt a quick spark in his hand, and nearly lost focus out of excitement (as he had done when he had first levitated a stone), electricity laced itself around Archie's hand like a coiling snake, seemingly materializing from nothing. For a moment, Archie could only stare in disbelief at the crackling blue substance winding around his forearm. He could feel the warmth through his clothing, but his brows furrowed as the electricity grew more erratic.

"Hurry! Cast it!" the instructor yelled urgently. Archie regained his composure, and thrust his hand forward.

The lightning seemed to uncoil from Archie's hand, and leapt at the dummy, hitting it with full force in the chest. Archie stood a moment, as the dummy crackled with the power of the Will, and then was still. Archie took a few more deep breaths, hiding his excitement under his unsmiling lips, he turned to face the Will teacher, but found that he had suddenly lost his balance; he began to fall forward, when the instructor caught him by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet, revealing an impressed smile on his wrinkled face.

"Didn't I tell you to be careful?" he asked, still smiling. Archie found his footing again, and managed to stand without the instructor's aid.

"Still, I don't see very many students performing that efficiently with the Will." The instructor's smile widened even further.

"You have performed excellently with your exercises today," Archie inclined his head slightly.

"Just remember, you still have that essay to turn in." the Will teacher declared. Archie's eyes widened. He had forgotten all about his essay.

Every few months, the guild tutors would set an assignment, usually in the form of essays, to be written and then returned in the same month. This month, Archie and his classmates were given the task of writing an essay on a hero that inspired them, and why, with a minimum of four hundred words. Archie still had the next half of the month to finish the essay, but he had only written a few sentences on Thunder, and suddenly he didn't seem like the right hero to write about. The tutor spotted the worry in Archie's eye.

"Don't worry, you'll get it done on time, you always do. I do suggest you head off and get some work done on it though, so head along." The teacher said, gesturing toward the guild castle. Archie began to run past him, but the teacher held his arm up, as though just remembering something.

"By the way, Maze is back, if you wanted to know." The tutor told Archie, and then walked off himself. Archie smiled to himself, glad to hear the news; Maze was hardly ever at the guild, but when he was there, he always had good stories to tell about the happenings in the outside world. A moment later, and Archie was off and away towards Maze's tower, smiling all the way.

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"Bandit attacks on the rise?" the guild master asked incredulously.

"I thought the council had hired more guards to patrol the roads, to keep-"

"It doesn't matter how much money the council puts into paying more guards, those bandits are always somehow one step ahead these days." Maze stated with as cold a voice as the draft that floated up to his quarters from the grounds, despite the roaring fire place, which bathed both the guild master and Maze in orange light. The guild master muttered a curse under his breath. He downed half of his glass of wine in one gulp. He couldn't help but agree. The council, Albion's ruling body, set in place supposedly after the fall of the old kingdom, was made up of men that had grown ever more distrustful of the guild, and had grown to keep the guild out of government affairs.

"Yes, yes, always a step ahead… You don't suppose they have someone spying on council affairs?" he glanced at Maze out of the corner of his eye.

"With the money they've been getting, they can certainly afford to. It was worse enough with Twinblade, with him in charge, the bandits have been-" Maze turned in surprise to see the guild master hurl the remains of his glass into the flames, his bushy brows furrowed, and a deep snarl hidden under his moustache.

"Don't speak of Twinblade! Skorm rend his head from his shoulders!" the guild master shouted crudely. Though taken aback, Maze retained an aura of calm, and turned his attention back to the flames, which had engulfed the wine greedily. Maze sighed.

"Do you know how much I spent on that wine?" he asked quietly, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. The guild master's features softened, and he chuckled a few moments, before his features hardened again. He set down the now empty glass and turned back to Maze.

"So what's the body count today?" The guild master asked evenly.

"Three heroes dead the last two weeks." Maze stated after a long silence. The guild master exhaled slowly as though recovering from a serious blow.

"Avo have mercy…Please tell me They weren't high ranking." The guild master asked, clutching a hand to his chest. Maze shook his head, the guild master sighed.

"Still a terrible loss, none the less." The guild master stated, making his way over to the wine case set next to Maze's book case.

"Thousands more gold pieces worth of training, equipment, bedding, housing, services… All down the drain." He said, picking a wine bottle, and returning to the glass on the table as he unscrewed the lid of the bottle. Maze shook his head as the guild master continued.

"Not to mention the cost of repairs… to old, weathered wood that can't be replaced thanks to our mutual friend among bandits blocking the roads…" the guild master was about to pour himself a new glass, hesitated, and then drank straight from the bottle. Maze groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. After a long moment, the guild master finished glugging down wine, and winced as he set down the bottle, then turned to Maze again.

"That…" the guild master paused a moment, regaining his composure from the powerful blood red liqour.

"…Coupled with the fact that the council is slowly pulling out their funding… is killing us – no, this," The guild master paused, gesturing around them.

"The guild and everything it has come to represent." The guild master finished. Maze shook his head.

"Did the guild really represent anything positive in the first place?" Maze asked, raising an eyebrow. The guild master scowled.

"It meant something to me, when we made it different, we gave it meaning." The guild master argued defiantly, pointing at himself with his free hand. Maze scowled.

"Yes, yes, we turned the guild into a haven of mercenaries obsessed with glory, who commit crimes in their own time, working away at the council's trust, and therefore working away at us." There was a tense silence for many seconds, before both men relented, and the atmosphere was calm between them again.

"We can only hope the apprentices we train now will be able to live longer than a few years," The guild master said with a sigh, but the mage's eyes quickly brightened.

"Of course, we do have a few talented students-"

"Archie and Whisper, correct?" Maze asked. The guild master nodded, a small smile forming under his moustache.

"Especially Archie, he's quite gifted in all areas…" the guild master's smile faded, and then was uncomfortably silent, catching Maze's attention more than if the man were to bellow.

"… But I fear he is reckless." The guild master finished. Maze nodded his agreement.

"We have time to correct that-"

"There's something else, though…" the guild master was silent again, and stared deep into the flames. Maze gazed intently at the guild master, waiting for him to continue. After a moment, the guild master turned his attention back to Maze, a worried look in his eyes.

"He's not quite like the others… like others that we've trained…" the guild master paused, trying to find the words to describe his meaning.

"There's something unnatural about him." The guild master finally said. Maze pulled up a chair from beside his bookshelf and fell into it with a heavy thud, gazing knowingly at his friend.

"I know what it is you mean; that he hasn't many friends, but that's on account of his injuries, and besides, he does have companions, he is good friends with Nelsa I hear, and with Whisper," the guild master averted his gaze.

"Besides, the boy has more time on his hands to train, and he enjoys it, from what he tells me."

Over the past few years, it had become a ritual for Archie to meet Maze whenever he arrived from outside the guild. During these meetings, Archie would ask dozens of half silent questions about the world outside, and Maze had developed an interest in Archie's training, so they would talk about that also.

The guild master nodded, but the look of worry was still in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be worried, all this means is that Archie is independent, and if you are worried, then take it up with Nelsa. But you shouldn't be, I saved that boy for a reason, he will do great things, I'm sure of it." Maze stated, falling easily back into his chair, a look of surety on his face. The guild master was taken aback; he had never seen Maze so certain of a student before. Then again, Archie was something else…

"Well," the guild master said with a furrowed brow.

"I'll be off I think, going to try to organize for a carpenter to come…" the guild master gazed down at the wine bottle in his hand.

"May I keep this?" he asked, raising his enclosed hand. Maze rolled his eyes and nodded. The guild master nodded in gratitude, crossed the room, and made his way down the stairs. Maze sat in his chair, contemplating the words of his friend.

Maze trusted the words of the guild master, and Maze knew there was truth to his words… There _was_ _something _odd about Archie. More than Maze was willing to let on… for the present moment.

'But that doesn't make things any different,' Maze though determinedly; that wouldn't change the fact that Archie _would _become a great hero, do great things. Maze nodded to himself, and hesitantly turned his head in the direction of the bookcase, a particular cover caught his eye, and he flinched away as though slapped, and he thanked Avo that no one was present to see the evident fear in his eyes. The fear was quickly gone, however, it was replaced again with determination.

He had to believe that Archie would fulfill his expectations, or everything would fall apart around him.

The wizard reluctantly glanced back at the red covered book at the top of his book case, and looked away with a shudder, his hard expression gone again, replaced by fear.

He had to.

Hurried footsteps interrupted Maze's thoughts, and he stood abruptly from his chair; his fear now hidden under a cold mask as he turned to face the stairway. A moment later, Archie leapt to the top of the steps, and spotted Maze. He nearly smiled, were it not for the angry look on the wizard's face.

"Shouldn't you wait for permission before entering?" Maze asked, trying to maintain his fake anger, but unable to resist smiling. Archie chuckled in response, and made his way to the chair opposite Maze's. The two of them sat down.

"So," Maze began.

"What has happened here in my absence?

A/N: I'm so, so sorry for a lack of updates. I've suffered from immense writer's block, and moments of "what happens now?"

So I figured I'd just do a chapter on the state of things, setting the stage as it were, and don't worry, things should get a bit more interesting in the next chapter or two… As for what Maze knows… That will be explained later. As a side note, I may come back to earlier chapters a bit later on and patch them up.

Thank you to all those that have read and reviewed the story this far.


	8. Chapter 8

Fable Chapter 8

A/N: Things are starting to slow up in terms of chapters here. Homework has me bogged down, and the time I get to spend writing this is becoming less and less. Hopefully I'll be able to update more when I catch a break, but until then, I'm going to be updating at random. Hope you continue reading.

For the next hours the two exchanged information, Archie told of his experiences in the guild (in as few words as possible), and Maze told of his experiences on the outside, which Archie was fond of hearing, especially when Maze would tell him of a battle or other exciting encounter. They had moved on from these subjects, however, and they sat silently, occasionally exchanging words.

The majority of time was, however, filled the crackle of flames from the fire place. Archie stared into the blaze for most of the while, then turned to Maze, opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke.

"Oakvale?" he asked. Maze turned, a surprised look in his eyes, then turned his gaze back to the fire.

"I believe the council is having it rebuilt… From what I saw the last time I was there, they were doing quite a good job, but I haven't been there for some time, so I can't know what it looks like now." Maze replied. Archie nodded, unsure how to feel.

Silence ensued for a moment, and Archie suddenly recalled that he had an essay to write. He almost lifted himself out of his chair, and then relaxed when he realized he didn't have any hero to write about since his encounter with Thunder earlier that day. Maze noticed Archie's movement however, and raised an eyebrow.

"Something else on your mind?" he asked. Archie avoided the mage's gaze.

"Essay." He replied after a moment. Maze turned away, nodding to himself in confirmation. His brows furrowed after a moment though, and turned to look at Archie again.

"Didn't you tell me you were writing about Thunder?" he asked. Archie failed to hide an angry sneer. Maze leaned back in his chair.

"No longer then?" Maze asked. Archie shook his head. Maze was about to continue with a retort about keeping with a subject, when Archie turned to face him, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

"Why essays only on heroes?" he asked hoarsely. Maze was taken aback by the question; he knew the answer to it, but had never been asked before, and as such he only now wondered whether or not to say why, attempt to lie, or not speak at all. Archie continued to stare at Maze, as though that alone would force an answer out. Maze chewed his bottom lip a moment, then answered.

"To increase morale." He stated simply. Archie blinked a few moments out of confusion, and opened his mouth to ask Maze what he meant, when the mage continued.

"As you know, Archie, the number of heroes at the disposal of the guild is diminishing," Maze turned away from Archie, averting his gaze back to the fire place.

"As such, there is a necessity to… further encourage enthusiasm by the apprentices to train and become heroes," Archie's gaze followed Maze's to the crackling flames, as his eyes began to twinkle in understanding.

"So you expose us apprentices to the great heroes of the past and present…" he spoke slowly, realization dawning. Maze turned to him, his face wrinkling into a smile.

"Exactly. Inspiration by way of exposure to past achievements of others." Maze finished, pointing with his wrinkled finger for dramatic effect. Archie remained still for many seconds as he began to understand the level of manipulation the guild exercised. Maze, sensing Archie's line of thought, quickly intervened.

"You understand it's necessary, don't you? The guild must receive income, otherwise there won't be enough gold for food, repairs… oh, the list goes on and on…" Maze continued to gaze at Archie's unmoving face. Maze sighed, and leaned back into his chair, slapping his hand to his forehead.

"I shouldn't have told you." Maze said worriedly, almost out of Archie's hearing. The two continued to sit in silence until Archie turned slightly, avoiding eye contact with Maze.

"If it's for the guild." Archie stated flatly. Maze raised his eyebrows, then smiled.

"I'm glad you understand… Now, about your essay-"

"May I write it about you?" Archie interrupted, now looking at Maze hopefully. Maze sat stunned for a moment, before collecting himself and replying.

"I suppose you would have to interview me, yes?" he asked, leaning back into his chair, his face unreadable. Archie nodded. Maze snorted.

"In that case, I must decline." He stated without looking at Archie, waving his hand dismissively. Archie's brows furrowed and his lips formed into a yet unspoken question, to which Maze replied before he could ask.

"Because…" Maze raised a finger for Archie to remain silent.

"… My past accomplishments are simply mind numbing, so much so that a mere apprentice - such as you – would hardly be able to take it." Maze finished, turning to Archie with a grin. Archie half turned from the mage, staring at him skeptically out of the corner of his eye.

"Liar" Archie stated, staring into Maze's eyes. Maze lowered his gaze, shaking his head. Ever since Archie had turned 13, he had developed a knack for looking into someone's eyes, and sensing whether or not they spoke with a true or false tongue. As such, Archie had never been challenged to any contest requiring participants to lie. Maze sighed.

"Mayhap I just don't want to talk about it." Maze lifted a firm gaze to look at Archie, who sat unmoving as a statue under the mage's stare.

"That is a truth." Maze stated firmly before turning away to stare into the flames. To Archie, this was just as good a warning as any not to continue down this line of conversation. He turned away, gazing about Maze's quarters, wondering when he would be able to find out about past events that the older man was unwilling to recount.

Archie's eyes landed on Maze's bookshelf, and his eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed over the various titles; 'A history of the modern guild', 'the elite spell worker's guide to the Will', 'People and places of long ago Albion.' Archie gazed over the covers, until his eyes fell on one on the top shelf, which would be nearly out of his reach. Archie quietly lifted himself from his seat, and stepped slowly over to the book case. Maze turned his chair, noticing Archie's absence, and stood up as well to see Archie reach up to a certain red leather bound book with fiery golden letters sparkling on its cover. Archie clutched the book in his hand, and carefully lifted it down to properly view its cover. A cold tingle travelled down Maze's spine as he spied the title over Archie's shoulder, and he had to resist the instinct to tell the apprentice to replace it on the shelf. Archie brushed a thin layer of dust from the cover, and read it silently.

'Jack of Blades: The enigmatic terror of Albion'

Archie turned to face Maze, whose emotions were unreadable, and held the volume up at eye level, grinning as he stared at the cover.

"Fond of children's stories, Maze?" Archie asked inquisitively, lowering the book to look Maze in the eye. The mage turned away without a word, and the smile fell from Archie's face. When Maze eventually spoke, he did so with tightly bound words, and any emotion in his voice was restrained and dammed like water.

"Do you actually know that it's just a children's tale?" Archie raised an eyebrow, and clutched the book in both hands. Jack of Blades had been every young one's antagonist, a hellish figure said to steal naughty children from their beds, and then feed them to balverines and other hellish beasts. Archie had never believed in these legends though, and wondered how Maze, a man of such power, could fear a mere myth. He lifted his eyes to look confusedly at Maze's turned figure.

"You think he's real?" Archie asked evenly. Maze turned ever so slightly, enough so that Archie could see the mage's pronounced brow and cheek bones.

"Yes." He stated evenly, then turned back to stare at the flames. Archie glanced back down to the book in his hands, then shrugged; just because Maze thought Jack of Blades was real didn't mean Archie had to, besides, who need fear a book?

"May I borrow this?" Archie asked, lifting the book forward. Maze turned fully to face him this time, his brows furrowed.

"Why?" the mage asked suspiciously.

"For the essay; if he's so widely believed in then my tutors will have no problem with it," Archie replied casually, gazing lazily at the novel, not noticing the surprised look on Maze's face.

"And besides," Archie continued, turning back to Maze, who had recovered.

"I always was interested in amazing heroes, whether or not they're real." Archie finished, he glanced at Maze, expecting an answer. When he was met with only a fixed stare, he concluded he was permitted to take the book. Archie slipped the volume into his robes, and made his way to the stairs. Before he could begin walking down them though, Maze's questioning voice interrupted him.

"Even if they are evil?"

Archie's brow furrowed. Had he heard a trace of worry in the mage's voice? He shrugged the thought away before replying.

"Greatness is not determined by alignment." Archie stated confidently without turning. The air was silent after this, and Archie took this as his cue to leave. He travelled down the steps, leaving Maze with a lingering doubt.

A/N I'm sorry if the chapter is a little boring, I was unable to continue it on to something interesting… But I decided to cut it short and make it a character development page, and to show some interaction between Maze and Archie, which I thought was lacking in the game (then again, you shouldn't expect to hear much interesting dialogue between a non-talking character and a talking character). Anyways, hopefully the next chapter will pick things up a little…


	9. Chapter 9

Fable

Chapter 9

Archie finished the last line of his sentence in silence, the scribbling of his feather quill the only break to the silence of the library. Archie lifted his quill, skimming quickly over the draft copy of his essay and nodded approvingly towards the sheet of parchment as though congratulating it. He set aside his pen, and blew gently on the parchment, drying the ink, and then carefully folded the sheet twice before slipping it into the folds of his outfit. Archie proceeded to pack away his other supplies into a brown sack by his seat, and glanced casually out the window.

It had been just over three hours since his talk with Maze, and the sun was now only peeking over the horizon as it slowly fell westward, casting the sky with a brilliant orange. Archie cast his gaze to the guild grounds, where apprentices and tutors alike were excitedly making their way back to the guild for the weekly feast held each Friday. Archie sighed: the feast was there for the apprentices to have some time to socialize with fellow students, something that Archie wasn't fond of doing. Not that he didn't look forward to the weekly notices from guild staff and heroes passing by, or possibly being chosen for the Friday hunt, it was just that the majority of apprentices simply had nothing interesting to say.

Archie shrugged; he had discovered the remedy long ago for boring students. He picked up a book titled "The Will: Achieving a Peaceful State in the Heat of Battle" and tucked it under his armpit to read during the feast. Archie picked up the last book lying on the table, and gazed in awe at the title.

"So extraordinary…" Archie thought aloud, grinning at the book.

"Still, you're just a fairy tale, Jack." Archie finished with a shrug, before pocketing the book into his sack. He heaved his bundle onto his shoulder and deposited it into his quarters before making his way to the mess hall, hoping he'd be able to leave the feast before the weekly beer-guzzling began, followed by said beer guzzling apprentices' antics.

Archie shivered at the thought.

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Archie had learned over the years that it was a good rule of thumb to arrive early to the feast to get a seat at the long table. Unfortunately, Archie had learned the hard way; there weren't enough seats at the long table for everyone to sit, so, naturally, there would be a mad rush for seats by the dozens of apprentices in the guild, otherwise, they would have to stand up for the rest of the night.

Sure enough, the wave of apprentices came, pushing and shoving as they always did to get a seat. Archie lowered his book momentarily to view the carnage as the apprentices grabbed for chairs, pulled them from under those already sitting, and altogether making a large fuss. One apprentice made to pull Archie's seat from under him, but the small student faltered when met with Archie's firm glare.

Eventually, the tavern master took action as he usually did, and the apprentices organized themselves more formally. Archie returned to his book. The apprentices sitting at the table began immediately with excited conversation about work, studies, and from what Archie had learned, gossip. Archie forced himself not to hear the droning buzz of the apprentices' chit chat, and focused intently on the content of his book, reading and digesting the information as he went from page to page.

Archie eventually lost track of time; he could have been reading for hours for all he knew, when he was tapped on the shoulder, rudely interrupting him. Archie managed to hide his rage under a thin mask of indifference, and turned slowly to face an apprentice his age. Archie had to resist from cringing at the younger teen's wavy black hair and excited brown eyes.

Gregory. Perhaps one of the most annoying apprentices Archie had ever met. He had arrived at the guild four weeks before; three weeks more than Archie had expected (or wanted) him to last. Gregory had arrived at the guild with a large, goofy, excited grin on his face, and Archie expected he would leave in the same manner. Unfortunately, Gregory had decided he would be Archie's friend, which included the constant onslaught of questions of "How's that essay doing?" or "what were you graded for that?" with a constantly excited, giddy voice that so irritated Archie. Somehow he had managed to take the seat next to Archie. Predictably, Gregory had something to say.

"Did you hear, Archie?" he asked, seeming to be a little more excited than usual (a thing Archie barely thought possible in Gregory's case). Archie stared blankly at his "friend" in reply. Gregory waited excitedly for a few moments, awaiting Archie's reply. When none came, he continued.

"Word is…" Gregory leaned in closer to Archie, who in turn recoiled.

"…That Sir Theodor is coming tonight." Gregory cupped a palm to one side of his mouth secretively, and spoke in a whisper before leaning back and allowing Archie to sit upright again. Gregory waited expectantly, but as before, Archie only stared back blankly. Gregory turned his head on an angle, peering at Archie out of the corners of his eyes, and grinned slyly.

"You don't know who Sir. Theodor is, do you?" Gregory asked, his grin growing wider. Archie's brows furrowed.

"No." he stated simply. Gregory spluttered into laughter, and Archie felt eyes fall on them, and carefully avoided eye contact with anyone else in the room. He continued to stare blankly at Gregory until the apprentice calmed down to giggles. Eventually Gregory turned to face Archie, wiping a tear from his eye.

"You…" Gregory shook his head, and pointed his finger at Archie, while trying to restrain more laughter.

"…You just crack me up," Gregory finished with a chuckle. Archie rolled his eyes and turned away, but was forced to face Gregory again when he nudged him in the arm.

"Do you want me to tell you who he is?" he asked, grinning. Archie reluctantly nodded.

"Right," Gregory said with a nod before setting himself more comfortably in his seat.

"Alright, you heard of the order of knights, right? You know, they protect the priests of Avo, when they go on pilgrimages, and they also act as a security force, right? Well, Sir Theodor is the head of that order at the moment, and from what I hear, he's mighty good too. It's thanks to him that the balverines in Witchwood haven't overrun Knothole glade. And…" Gregory leaned closer to Archie, who leaned away again.

"He's supposedly a real hit with the ladies," Gregory finished in a whisper, before breaking into a chuckle as he leant back, allowing Archie to sit upright again.

"And he's meant to be coming _here_ tonight!" Gregory exclaimed, flinging his arms above his head. Archie stared blankly for a few moments before answering.

"Did he train at the guild?" Archie asked simply. Gregory lowered his arms and furrowed his brows, before replying with a nod. Archie nodded in return.

"In that case he has my respect," Archie stated before turning away to continue reading. Gregory had other plans.

"Hey, Archie? How's the essay coming? You're doing it on Thunder, right?" Gregory asked with a grin. Archie looked up from his book.

"No, I'm not doing it on Thunder," Archie answered, before returning to his book. Gregory opened his mouth to ask more, but was interrupted by one of the servants. The servant was setting a plate of hot soup before him, as was happening to other apprentices around the table. Apprentices who were standing were given a cloth to prevent burns. Gregory took a long inhale of the soup's aroma before picking up the spoon to his right and taking an enjoyably long taste. Archie had received his bowl, and he spooned the liquid into his mouth at a steady rate, uncaring of the taste, texture, or what the soup had been made from. He was careful not to spill any onto the pages of his book as he read.

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Archie and Gregory both finished with their soup. As others finished their soup, they continued to chat. They were all waiting for the high ranking guild staff to arrive. Gregory took this chance to turn back to speak to Archie before the guild staff arrived with the notices.

"So, you're not doing the essay on Thunder anymore?" he asked under a furrowed brow. Archie didn't even bother looking up from his book, but Gregory wouldn't desist.

"Archie, did you hear me?"

Archie rolled his eyes, uncaring whether or not Gregory noticed. Archie turned away from his book to face Gregory. Gregory showed no sign of having seen Archie's gesture, or didn't show any sign that he was insulted.

"No." Archie answered simply, returning to his book. Gregory scratched his chin, which was rough with stubble.

"Why?" he asked. Archie huffed loudly in exasperation, turning quickly in his seat to stare at Gregory in frustration. Gregory raised his palms before him, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Alright, I can tell when I'm annoying," he said sheepishly through grinning teeth. Archie was seriously considering knocking those teeth from Gregory's gums. Instead, he merely shrugged, and returned to his book. Ten minutes passed, and the guild staff, including the guild master and Maze, still hadn't arrived. The crowd of apprentices was growing impatient, and even Archie couldn't help but notice how late it was becoming. He had pocketed his book, and was glancing around the room at the apprentices. Many apprentices around the table were passing the time with simple games. Archie noticed a small group near the head of the table playing with a deck of cards, another group down the other end was playing a game with players trying to knock a coin through the other player's hands.

Archie felt a slight tug on his sleeve to his right, and turned slowly to see a girl dressed in an apprentice robe gazing at him with a mischievous grin. She had somehow managed to lure someone out of their chair and had taken it. Archie guessed she was perhaps a year younger than he, and her slim frame only took up only three quarters of her seat, most of the male apprentices would have probably found her attractive, but Archie's only thought was to wonder what the girl's business with him was. Once she knew she had Archie's attention, she brushed away a strand of brown hair away from her pale green eyes, for show, Archie thought.

"You're Archie, right?" she asked with a flirtatious grin. Archie nodded, his face unreadable. The girl's smile grew wider.

"And you beat Whisper, in the sparring ring?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. Archie nodded again.

"Well, my name is Clara." The girl, Clara, pointed to herself. Archie made no response, and Clara continued.

"You know, you must be _really_ fit to have beaten Whisper, it's a shame I don't know you that well." Clara shuffled closer to Archie, narrowing the gap between them slightly.

"So, what I was thinking…" Clara leaned closer to Archie until he could see her individual eye lashes. He silently protested against her invading his personal space, but kept his face blank. Clara gazed intently at Archie, trying to muster all the allure within her. When she spoke again, she spoke with a quiet, husky tone.

"… Was that after the feast, we could…" she reached out her right hand, and wrapped her arm around Archie's neck, before planting a long kiss on Archie's lips. Archie blinked in surprise, which disappeared with a wave of anger at Clara's bravado, but he kept his calm. Behind him, Archie heard Gregory's snickering, and Clara finally removed her lips from his, opening her eyes to gaze into his once more.

"… Get to know each other more…_ intimately_." Clara finished with a grin, emphasizing the last word. Archie stared blankly at Clara for a few more moments, before standing, and leaving the table, leaving Clara with a stunned look on her face. She followed Archie with a piercing glare, before shaking her head in disbelief. Archie disappeared in the throng of apprentices.

Gregory continued to snicker, and pounded lightly on the table. Clara turned to him, trying to stare him down with a look to kill. Gregory was unaffected by her glare however, and laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" she hissed. Gregory managed to cough down more giggles, and then turned to address her.

"It's just… you thought that you could get _him_ to go out with _you_," Gregory replied, pointing after Archie. Clara blinked dazedly for a few moments.

"Uh… yeah," she replied uncertainly. Gregory managed to hold back a snort of laughter with great difficulty.

"Look, there's one thing I've learned about Archie from the time I've been here. He's not interested in dating," Gregory spoke with a smile, but it quickly dropped to a thoughtful frown.

"He's got a goal, you see, and he's not gonna let anything get in his way, or at least, not anything that wouldn't help him," Gregory finished. His smile returned after a moment.

"Anyway, I'm sure you'll find someone to be…" Gregory cleared his throat.

"…_intimate_ with." Gregory finished in laughter.

Clara stared at him with an icy glare in an attempt to pierce his jovial mood. But to no avail.

A/N: another chapter of character development.


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